


Look To The Sky With Hope

by mylordshesacactus



Series: The Barrissoka Fusion You Never Knew You Wanted [5]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Timeline Compression, Anakin "Davy Jones" Skywalker, Beach Sex, Brief body horror, F/F, Gen, Gleeful (Ab)use Of Symbolism And Parallels, Immortal Pirate Lord Ahsoka Tano, In-Universe Mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 06:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 61,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10610751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylordshesacactus/pseuds/mylordshesacactus
Summary: Anakin Skywalker. Every sailor knows that name. Captain of the ghost shipTwilight,ferryman of the dead. Some say he preys on merchantmen, out of vengeance for the loss of his ship and crew; others that he and the charred black phantom are an honest sailor's friend, a protector in the dark and the mist. According to Ahsoka, the truth is both and neither.But theTwilightis...well, it's notreal.Barriss Offee may be new to this whole pirate thing, but she knows that. It's a legend, a story, a sailor's superstition; like mermaids and Fridays and the Kraken. The ship of the dead and its captain, they're just amyth.Aren't they?





	1. Truth In Legends

A weathercock exploded inches from her head.

Ahsoka yelped as she vaulted the roof, skidding down the far side. She just barely managed to brace her feet in time to push off and leap onto the next roof. The shingles were wet; she cursed as she struggled to find purchase, scrambling over the point just in time to avoid another whistling musket ball.

“Too close,” she muttered. “Way too close…”

Jumping across rooftops like this was way too visible. She grabbed hold of a gable and swung around one-handed, ducking awkwardly through the open window just as the sound of running boots rounded the corner. Ahsoka stepped to one side and listened; the redcoats were following her trajectory, pounding along the main street. Nobody had turned.

She gave a sigh of relief, then looked up.

“...Afternoon.” The white-skinned young woman turning down the bedsheets squeaked, and Ahsoka gave her a quick salute as best she could with her hands shackled. “Talk about the weather, right? It is just _raining_ lead out there, thought I’d step inside until it stopped. ‘Scuse me…”

 _Don’t scream,_ she prayed as she darted out of the room and took the stairs two at a time. _Don’t scream don’t scream don’t…_

The girl, her brain having apparently caught up with events, gave a bloodcurdling shriek just as Ahsoka had located the back door and casually slipped back onto the street.

Why were there so many goddamn _soldiers_ in this town? Just because it was attached to a major military fort. That was no excuse. Some people were trying to earn a living, here.

Ahsoka ran through alleyways, hid behind a series of convenient bushes, took the risk of ducking through a building occupied by a blacksmith so drunk he didn’t even twitch when she kicked out a window and escaped through it, and eventually found herself on a side street with no red-coated presence.

That was when she got cocky.

Empty street, she’d figured. No one around, no one watching, no soldiers. So she’d walked out without any further thought, and it was only after she was standing in the middle of the road trying to map out her next move and heard the approaching thunder of boots that she realized there was no way forward.

Hard running footsteps coming from either end of the street; going back was suicide, no convenient nooks or crannies to duck into, and a solid stone wall ahead.

Nothing for it, then.

Praying she hadn’t somehow gotten turned around while scrambling around Port Royal—it would be just her luck to jump the wall into the damn fort, at this point—Ahsoka took a step back and then made a running leap for the wall.

She _almost_ got over in one go. But...well, something about horseshoes. Her foot slipped; she scrabbled against the wall for several terrifying seconds before she found another foothold, then hauled herself up and rolled over onto the other side just as the first flashes of red came around the corner.

Ahsoka took the opportunity to take a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then brushed some palm fronds aside and looked around.

 _Nice garden,_ she thought.

She then thought, _shit._

The idea had been—well, the idea had been “ditch the redcoats,” but she’d hoped that the wall was a sort of city limit. She’d planned to vanish into the tropical forest, where her dark, loose clothes would vanish while all these good English boys stuck out like sore thumbs. Then she’d wait until nightfall, meet up with the boys again, get someone to finally take these shackles off, and they’d go back to the original plan.

The original plan didn’t involve Ahsoka being arrested twice and escaping through some powdered wig’s back garden, but—look. She _improvised,_ okay?

Ahsoka ducked behind a topiary as she tried to plan her way out. Luckily there were no gardeners or other servants around; the garden was empty, and the house was quiet except for...the squad of sharply-dressed soldiers marching up to the front door. Fantastic.

There was a trellis against the wall of the house. She could probably make it from here if she ran…

It was her best chance, anyway. She’d last about ten seconds once those soldiers started searching the garden, and Ahsoka Tano had more important things to worry about than a dawn appointment with a rope.

Hoping for a bit of luck and that anyone inside who might have been looking out over the garden was distracted by the soldiers’ arrival, Ahsoka sprinted across to the trellis. She was just on the level of an open second-story window when the back door opened.

Ahsoka froze.

_“...will certainly appreciate your thoroughness, Lieutenant, but…”_

_“Ensuring your safety is of the utmost....”_

Soldiers began to fan out into the garden. Holding her breath as their officer and the woman who was presumably the lady of the house watched from below, Ahsoka took one foot off the trellis and felt gingerly for the windowsill. She didn’t dare rush and make noise, but any minute now one of those idiots in red was going to look up…

_Got you._

Ahsoka grinned, shimmied sideways, and swung herself inside.

* * *

Barriss knew she ought to feel a bit guilty, but she couldn’t quite manage it.

It was a beautiful day, if too warm to be comfortable; there was a gentle breeze off the ocean, the trees rustled outside, and she had a glass of water nearby and was halfway through a new book. True, it was really too late to still be lounging in bed in her nightdress, but...well. She was enjoying herself. Besides, she hadn’t slept well last night.

The sound of quiet footsteps across the room roused her from her book; glancing at the clock, Barriss winced and sat up. Really, her mother’s maids had been incredibly patient in leaving her alone thus far, but it wasn’t fair to ask them to wait any longer.

“I’m sorry,” she said, glancing over without really looking. “I lost track of the time, I’ll dress in a moment—”

“No rush,” answered an unfamiliar voice, and before Barriss could react there was a cold chain pressing tight against her throat.

* * *

To her credit, this one didn’t scream.

“Easy,” Ahsoka murmured into her ear, pulling her manacles a little more firmly against her captive’s throat. “I’m in a little trouble here. I’d rather nobody get hurt, so, you just do as you’re told and nothing bad will happen. Okay?”

After a short pause, the girl nodded stiffly.

“Good girl.” Ahsoka shifted, sitting down on the bed and absolutely leaving dirt on the pristine white sheets. Rich girl could deal. “I don’t think I caught your name,” she said. She had to keep her voice pitched low; everything depended on nobody hearing them. “But I did hear your mother talking. Was it Barriss?”

The girl hissed. It was an unexpected bit of temper, and Ahsoka revised her opinion. Not quite the wilting flower she’d expected. “ _Miss Offee,_ to you.”

“Well, keep your voice down, _Miss Offee,”_ Ahsoka told her softly. “I really _don’t_ want to hurt anyone, but I’ve been sentenced to death twice already this morning and I really haven’t got much to lose at this point if I have to shoot my way out of this house.”

There was another slight pause. Offee’s response was not what Ahsoka had expected.

“For what?” she asked, obediently pitching her voice not to carry.

Ahsoka looked askance at the back of the girl’s head. “Sorry?”

Offee glanced over her shoulder. “Sentenced to death for what?” she asked again, just as quietly. “If I’m going to help you surely I have the right to know.”

Ahsoka’s lips twitched, she couldn’t help it. This girl kept her head better than most of the grizzled sailors she’d met.

“Petty theft,” she said.

She could feel Offee roll her eyes.

“I’m sure.”

Ahsoka shrugged, bumping her cheek against Offee’s delicate bronze neck and letting her feel her grin for a moment. “A few shillings in pocket change, some jewellery, a few unpaid tabs. Maybe a ship or five.”

A faint sigh. “Piracy.”

“Oh, right.” Ahsoka grinned wider. “Must’ve forgotten that one.”

Offee carefully placed a strip of ribbon in her book, closed it, and set it aside. “And what manner of assistance are you requesting?” she asked. Ahsoka laughed under her breath at the ridiculous formality.

“I’m letting you go,” she informed her captive. “Don’t try anything. I’m faster than you.” Unhooking her shackles from around Offee’s neck, she tapped the girl between the shoulder blades. “Now go get a hairpin, you’re bound to have one around here somewhere.”

Offee brought her the pin without bothering to disguise her disdain, holding it out at arm’s length. Ahsoka, rather than taking it, twitched two fingers to summon her unwilling host back to sitting on the bed.

“Know how to pick a lock?” she murmured. “You’re about to learn. Put that end in the keyhole here, and then you’re going to bend it toward you…” She trailed off as she realized Offee had preempted her and was already moving ahead. “Well now. _That’s_ an interesting skill for a fine lady, isn’t it?”

“My mother taught me years ago,” Offee said mildly. “She says every lady ought to know the basics. I wouldn’t be the first wealthy woman’s daughter to be kidnapped for ransom.” A hint of venom entered her voice as she glared up at Ahsoka. “Especially with this area infested with _pirates._ Besides.” The shackles fell away from Ahsoka’s right wrist and Offee moved to the other. “No self-respecting woman would ever allow herself to be kept out of a room in her own home just because a key was misplaced.”

A door closed downstairs. Ahsoka held her breath until she heard the faint sound of footsteps leaving again.

“Well,” she said. “It’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance, Miss Offee. Now, you’re just going to keep quiet, and I’ll leave the way I came in, and there doesn’t need to be any—”

There was a rap on the door.

They both froze; Ahsoka recovered first, drawing her cutlass silently from a well-oiled sheath. Offee’s bright blue eyes went wide.

 _“No—”_ she whispered. Ahsoka hissed a warning and crossed the room, pressing flat against the wall as the polite knocking repeated itself.

“Barriss?” her mother called through the door. “Are you there?”

Ahsoka raised an eyebrow at Offee, flicked her sword in the direction of the door, and mouthed, _Get rid of her._

Offee’s throat worked for a moment. “I, yes,” she managed. She swallowed, then said more clearly, “Yes, what is it? Have the soldiers gone? I’m not decent.”

There was delicate laughter as the handle turned, and Offee scrambled across the room to place a hand on the door, trying to look natural as it opened and she reached out to stop it from revealing anything in the room except herself.

“Reading again, my dear?”

Offee gave a nervous laugh. “Yes, I...must have gotten sidetracked.”

Her mother gave another fond laugh; Ahsoka, watching with her sword ready, saw Offee’s hair brushed back over her ear. “It happens to the best of us. But I think it’s more than time you got ready, hmm?”

“Ready?” Offee repeated faintly.

“...the banquet up at the fort, Barriss, have you forgotten? That’s not like you. Are you feeling well?”

“Yes!” she said, visibly clutching at the lifeline. “I mean...no, I don’t think...actually I’ve been feeling poorly all day, I think I may lie down for a while.”

“Hmm. You don’t feel warm. Is it your stomach bothering you?”

Offee nodded, maintaining her white-knuckled grip on the door. Ahsoka felt a faint twinge of regret for that. The cutlass was just a precaution, in a situation like this. She didn’t slaughter people for the fun of it. Well...not unarmed noncombatants, anyway. She wasn’t about to make an exception to that rule now, when shoving the woman aside and running for it would be just as effective.

It sure was convenient _Offee_ didn’t know that, though.

“Go lie down,” the lady of the house said kindly. “You do look very pale. I’ll give word not to disturb you. And don’t worry, Barriss, I’ll make your excuses this evening.”

Offee smiled shakily. “Thank you, mother. I’m going to go and—yes.”

The door closed. Ahsoka waited until she heard the lady move away, then sheathed her sword.

“Well done,” she said quietly. “You almost convinced me.”

Offee backed away, stiff. “May I assume that was everything?”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “I don’t want me here any more than you do.” She brushed past Offee and glanced cautiously out the window. There didn’t seem to be anyone in the garden…

The attack was quick and quiet, but not quiet enough. Without looking, Ahsoka spun, knocked the copper heating pan out of Offee’s hands, caught it in her left hand before it hit the ground, and pinned the girl to the wall with a hand clamped over her mouth and nose.

“That took guts,” she acknowledged in a whisper. “But I _really_ wish you hadn’t done it.”

* * *

It was dark by the time Ahsoka slipped in through the back door of the tavern.

Her boys knew better than to greet her with their usual exuberance; even battle-jaded pirates could be subtle when the other option was a hangman’s noose, it turned out.

Sometimes.

If they felt like it.

“Evening, gentlemen,” Ahsoka announced as she casually flopped into Fives’ lap, slung an arm around his neck, and stole his beer. It was always a good idea, in a dangerous situation, to just let the nice law-abiding people see what they expected to see. Show a seedy tavern a young woman cuddled in a rugged sailor’s lap and they wouldn’t know to tell the Crown about a pirate captain if she’d signed her name on their foreheads.

She’d tried this act with Rex before, but it freaked them both out so much they’d sworn never to do it again.

Fives gave a long-suffering sigh and grabbed Jesse’s tankard. Good boy. He knew better than to try to take his own back. “Eventful day, sir?”

Ahsoka grinned. “Nah. Just went for a bit of a walk. And how was your day, Rex?” she asked, voice carefully light as she glanced at her stolen beer and took a casual sip.

Rex shrugged and sat back to rest his elbows on the back of his chair. “Not much. Went fishing. Had some laundry done.”

Ahsoka’s eyes flashed with satisfaction.

“Good to know.” She knocked back the rest of the tankard. “One hour. Make sure you’ve eaten and everything’s packed, then I want us ready to move into position.”

“Aye, sir.” The others got up and moved off; Ahsoka gratefully moved so Fives could leave, settling into his chair. It was a little early to move, yet, but she wanted them ready and waiting when the watch changed and she wanted plenty of time to set that up.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump; but it was just Rex, pausing to give her arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Holding up all right, sir?”

Ahsoka flashed him a sharp grin. “Don’t I always?”

He rolled his eyes. “That might work on the boys, sir. I know you better. We’ll figure it out.”

She sighed. Too damn perceptive, as usual.

“Thanks, Rex.”

“I mean it, sir. There’s got to be a good reason. We’ll get back on a good ship and we’ll be one step closer.”

Ahsoka took a deep breath.

“Yeah,” she said, this time without the forced levity she’d been keeping up all day. The pirate voice, as it were. “Thanks. Really. I just…”

There was a low, concussive boom in the distance.

Ahsoka’s first thought was: _Thunder?_

Followed quickly by: _Cannons._

And that, as a second cannon blast growled in the night, led to: _I_ know _those cannons._

This place was filled with career sailors; most of them had gone still to listen, and Ahsoka stood and bolted for the door only a split second before half the tavern.

“Rex!”

She grabbed him by the arm as he struggled out the door at her heels, yanking him aside.

“Sir?"

She gripped his collar. “It’s the _Resolute._ We’re altering the plan. Get everyone together, we move _now.”_

His eyes widened slightly; but, God bless him, he didn’t question how she knew. He just nodded and ran to grab her people.

Out on the bay, Ahsoka’s old ship spat fire and lead at the cliffs of Port Royal.

There _had_ been a plan, she thought ruefully. It had been a good plan, even. But, well, Anakin had always said no plan ever lasted more than five minutes.

Ever since she’d lost the _Resolute_ to that thieving, no good—well, she was in the market for a new ship, put it that way. And there was an _awfully_ nice one down at the Royal Navy docks. Oh, she was small, to be sure; but she was sleek and swift, a lady if Ahsoka ever saw one, and if the tales of the pirate captain Ahsoka Tano agreed on one thing it was that she knew how to treat a lady. What was even better, HMS _Fulcrum_ was just at the tail end of being fully resupplied and re-armed by the helpful lads in red down at the fort. Rex’s “laundry” was six clean uniforms and the guards were stupid, especially when it was late and they wanted to get home.

It really might have worked, too. No time to change now, though. Ahsoka cursed _Captain Secura_ under her breath as they ran.

Rex and the boys shouldered through the crowd to reach her, and she gestured them after her as she took off running. They were in a race now; even if it didn’t occur to the Navy to cut the _Fulcrum_ loose and set her on the _Resolute,_ it would absolutely occur to Aayla to destroy the only ship in the harbor capable of chasing her down.

Port Royal was in chaos. Aayla’s landing parties moved with purpose; buildings burned, windows were shattered one after another. A young man with a rifle fell without a sound, an axe buried in his forehead. Men and women rushed through the smoke; some screaming, some pulling children, others laughing and tossing golden candlesticks, silver sets, bags of jewelry or coins to one another to cart off to the ship.

A woman screamed nearby; Ahsoka reached for her sword, but before she could draw it Rex had already shot the assailant through the eye.

“Good shot,” said Ahsoka. “Let’s go, _move!”_

She snatched up the small bag of valuables the man had dropped and tossed it to Hardcase as they ran.

Rex shot a man with an axe who was in their way and looked over his shoulder. “We ought to talk to Aayla about her hiring standards, sir!”

“Oh, I’ll be having words with her, all right!” Ahsoka shouted.

They’d cleared the town by now, shoving their way through the forest; it was easier, less likely to get them killed by a stray shot. The raiders ignored them for the most part; whatever else you could say about her (and Ahsoka had a list), Aayla Secura knew how to deploy her people. She had to realize that even the Resolute wouldn’t stand forever against the fort; she had her people causing chaos and drawing forces away from it while smaller groups made fast smash-and-grab strikes against some of the wealthiest houses in the area.

It was a smart tactic, Ahsoka grudgingly allowed as her group hurried toward the water. That place, for instance—the same one she’d been a guest in earlier this afternoon. They’d find plenty of good loot there, very weakly guarded. Lockboxes, gold and silver trappings, coinage and high-quality tradeable goods of all varieties…

Ahsoka came to an abrupt stop.

She knew _exactly_ what they’d find there. Gold, silver, yes, high-quality goods. And the noblewoman’s daughter she’d left bound, gagged, and shackled to a bedpost earlier that afternoon.

What? She hadn’t been able to trust that the girl would stay quiet long enough for her to get a safe distance away! A servant should have checked on her at some point and let her go. Ahsoka hadn’t exactly _planned_ on a pirate raid of Port Royal—

But if it hadn’t been for her, Barriss Offee would be with her mother, safe in the inner sanctum of a naval fort.

A shot rang out in the house.

“Rex,” she croaked. Then, trying again: “Rex! _Detour!”_

* * *

In retrospect, entering by the back door would probably have made more sense.

Just, well, Ahsoka already knew one good, reliable way into the house. Her brother would have her _keelhauled_ if he heard she was repeating her routes so soon, but somehow she doubted the EITC would be setting up an ambush in this window.

Besides, this way didn’t involve shooting her way past some of Captain Aayla Secura’s best men. She liked most of them, as much as pirates ever liked one another; they were friends, as much as pirates could have friends.

The trellis, which had apparently been damaged when she scrambled up here a few hours ago, creaked under Ahsoka’s feet. She cringed and paused just beneath the window, listening to the sounds of shouting and breaking glass from inside the mansion.

She recognized a familiar voice, absurdly formal and more than a little haughty, from the open window.

“What’s that?” Ahsoka couldn’t place the pirate’s voice; probably one of the new men.

Offee’s response was clear, even if she couldn’t keep the fear out of her voice. “I invoke the right of parley,” she repeated. “Once an adversary demands parley, according to the Code of the Order of the Brethren as established by the pirate lords Revan and—”

There was a burst of rough laughter that Ahsoka took advantage of, using the noise to cover the sound of a pistol being drawn and cocked.

“What makes you think you weren’t going anyway?” he asked “And what makes you so eager to meet the captain, then, sweetheart?”

“Perhaps I wish to negotiate— _don’t touch me!”_

“Well if you want to be taken to the captain so bad—”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes at the blatant leer in his tone—who was Aayla _hiring_ these days? This had to be a rookie, she was better than this—and pulled herself up level with the window.

“She reconsidered,” she informed the man, and shot him in the head.

* * *

Barriss Offee could say honestly that this was not what she’d expected.

It had taken her a _little_ time to work herself free; she had of course kept a second hairpin tucked up her sleeve when her captor had sent her after one, and once she’d picked the lock and worked her hands free it was just a matter of time before she got her gag loose and ankles untied. By that time there had been very little point in raising any kind of fuss; the military already knew about the escaped pirate, after all. But her nerves had been rattled enough that she’d decided to lie down after all.

A pirate raid on Port Royal hadn’t factored into her plans. It was, apparently, going to be that kind of day.

That she would be targeted had been an inevitability. She’d tried to steel her nerves and hope that the pirates would be rebuffed before they got here, but she had known the reality. The parley had been a desperate gesture, but she’d had to try. She’d only been able to come up with a handful of hazy plans to protect herself, and negotiating her own ransom was the most likely to end well for everyone involved. Especially her.

So, the raiding party in her bedroom, for all the shaky terror it had inspired, had not been a surprise. This, on the other hand, was.

The woman from earlier, the pirate, lowered her weapon and swung a leg through the window, straddling the sill. “Haven’t got all day here, kitten, you can come with me or you can take your chances on a ransom.”

Barriss did not trust this girl. You couldn’t trust the word of a pirate, and her timing was suspiciously perfect. On the other hand, her phrasing at least suggested she wasn’t looking for a prisoner, and she certainly didn’t appear to be in league with the attackers.

She made an executive decision.

The trellis, as she peered out the window, seemed extremely unstable—and she wasn’t certain how two of them were meant to climb it at once. “How…?”

The pirate looked vaguely apologetic. “Sorry,” she said. “No time for that. _Jesse! Catch!”_

Barriss blinked. “I’m sorry, what—”

She yelped as she was picked bodily off her feet. It was at least a comfort to her dignity that when her so-called rescuer dropped her out the second-floor window, she was too shocked to scream.

Strong arms caught her—that would be Jesse, she assumed—and immediately set her on her feet. There was a splintering sound, and Barriss looked up just in time to see the trellis, still in one piece, falling slowly away from the house. One of the other pirates ran forward and caught it near the base, and backed up quickly to lower the far end close enough to the ground that the dark-skinned young woman clinging to the top could drop safely to the ground.

The pirate brushed herself off.

“Right,” she announced, and turned to Barriss. “You helped me out, I returned the favor. We’re even. Run somewhere safe. Rex, let’s go.”

It took Barriss less than two seconds mentally plot out the route that would take her to the fort. A route full of burning buildings, bloodthirsty pirates, and fighting in the streets. Well, it would at least be safer than staying _here._ Realistically it shouldn’t be too difficult for a terrified young woman still wearing a nightdress to find an intact home willing to shelter her, but…

Someone screamed in the city.

She gathered her skirt and sprinted after the pirates.

* * *

In her dream, Barriss was a little girl again.

The chill in the air made her sniffle; she’d never fallen ill easily, but she’d caught cold on the voyage from England and it hadn’t quite passed yet. Her mother was sympathetic, promised her that once they arrived the heat and availability of fresh citrus would help, and encouraged her to get the sleep she needed. Barriss saw the wisdom in that for many reasons; a twelve-year-old child would only be in the way of the sailors, no matter how well-behaved.

However, her mother also encouraged her to spend most of her time on deck.

“I won’t have you adding seasickness on top of a cold,” she’d said with a kind smile. “Staying below where you can’t see the horizon will make it much worse.” Barriss had not been seasick yet, so she assumed it was working.

Not that there was any horizon today. Thick grey fog pressed against them on all sides, and the sky was overcast. Barriss could feel the effect it was having on the crew. The air was silent, unbroken by even the sound of waves; with almost no wind, the ship inched forward creaking and whispering, alone in the gloom.

After a moment, she located her mother leaning casually against the bulwark at the bow of the ship. Unlike the others, she seemed entirely at ease. She was even whistling, the sound carrying across the still water

Luminara looked up as Barriss approached, and her lips twitched.

Barriss pulled the blanket she’d borrowed more firmly around her shoulders, feeling a little self-conscious. She’d assumed the sailors wouldn’t mind the impropriety, but next to her mother she always felt gangly and inelegant.

Her mother didn’t seem to feel that way, however. “Good morning, my dear,” she murmured, holding out an arm and folding Barriss under it as she looked out over the grey fog. “How are you feeling?”

Barriss sniffled. Her mother laughed softly.

“You’ll feel better when the fog breaks,” she promised. Barriss nodded obediently and leaned into her, grateful for the comfort.

“I heard some of the men talking,” she said. “They’re worried about pirates.”

Fingers carded through her hair. “It’s natural for nerves to be on edge in this weather, Barriss. I don’t believe their fears have any foundation.”

It was foolish, really, to be reassured by something her mother was obviously only saying to make her feel better. It wasn’t as if she could possibly promise that there wouldn’t be a pirate attack. Nobody could promise that. But she said it with such certainty that Barriss believed her anyway.

Her mother started to whistle again.

It wasn’t a tune, exactly. It was more of a pattern, a five-toned rhythm that was a little bit eerie, in the fog. But it was soothing nonetheless.

Just for a moment, the grey clouds parted.

Barriss’ breath caught. It was a moment, just a cluster of heartbeats, where suddenly she could make out the shape of a scarlet ship, flying a black flag, trailing just barely off their vessel’s stern. As she watched, its sails shifted, and the stalking ship began to turn back and away.

Reflexively, she looked up at her mother.

Luminara’s face was still and serious; she’d noticed, too. But she glanced down at Barriss, smiled slightly, and placed a finger on her lips.

Barriss nestled back into her side and said nothing, and her mother’s low whistle echoed in the fog.

* * *

She woke to the sound of waves.

For a long few seconds, Barriss couldn’t remember where she was. The water was louder than usual, and there was a curious absence of the tropical birdsong she was used to. And everything smelled like...salt, and old leather, wood, the faint scent of sulfur…

The night came flooding back.

Barriss, who had been about to open her eyes, froze. Then she chided herself for the impulse. As if squeezing her eyes shut would make everything go away. She took a deep breath, and opened them.

There, she thought. That wasn’t so bad.

Some part of her had subconsciously expected...well, a pirate ship, the way anyone would envision it. Gloomy and dirty, poorly-maintained, probably filled with alcohol of some sort. It had been a foolish thought; HMS _Fulcrum_ was the pride of the Royal Navy, or had been. She was sleek and beautiful, perfectly designed and built. Her hull gleamed inside and out. She’d only been in pirate hands a few hours, after all.

And anyway, Barriss supposed that pirates, who lived and depended on their ships perhaps even more than merchantmen or naval officers, might take similar pride in them. Surely anyone who felt even the slightest call to the sea could respect a lady like this one?

Her mother had been married to a merchant captain; anyone could see that she had shared his love of ships. Barriss had inherited it almost automatically. The idea of a band of rough pirates mishandling a beautiful little brig like this because they couldn’t appreciate what they _had_ caused her a near physical agony.

Shaking her head and hoping for the best, for _Fulcrum’s_ sake, she tried to navigate climbing out of the hammock her...rescuers...had rigged for her the night before.

She’d been unceremoniously shoved below the moment she’d stepped aboard, and that much had only been allowed because the young woman they called captain visibly didn’t have time to protest. They hadn’t locked the hatch—of course they hadn’t, they needed access to their supplies—but Barriss knew better than to insert herself into a naval battle.

As it happened, there hadn’t been one. She’d felt _Fulcrum_ fire off a few shots, but she was being manned by a skeleton crew. Six people could, in theory, manage to sail her; but they certainly couldn’t fight her, and they knew it. And once she’d shaken clear, there was no pirate vessel in the _world_ that could catch this ship.

She supposed many people would call her a fool for getting onboard. She agreed with them, but—it had made sense at the time. The choices had been remaining in a house crawling with pirates intent on kidnapping her, fleeing half-naked and on foot into a burning town crawling with pirates intent on sacking the place, or throwing in her lot with a different pirate who had already threatened her life once that same day but who genuinely seemed to have come back out of a sense of obligation.

So she’d tried to stay out of the way and the pirates had let her. None of them seemed particularly interested in her presence at all, which was...reassuring. One of them had made a flirtatious pass at her, but another had cuffed him in the head—the one they called Rex, she thought, who seemed to be first mate if pirates had any such rank. The first had apologized, even, which was unexpected to say the least.

The girl had offered Barriss the use of her quarters. Barriss, who sensed no malice in the offer but was not actually an idiot, had turned her down instantly. The acceptance with which her answer had been received made her rethink the intent behind it, actually; but it was done.

“Oh, there you are!” Rex waved to her from the helm as she cautiously climbed to the deck. “We were wondering whether you’d be coming up at all. Get yourself something to eat?”

Barriss fumbled over her words for a moment before managing to shake her head. One of the men whistled brightly—they’d called him Fives last night, she thought—and she just barely managed to catch the apple he tossed her.

“Thank you,” she said, because it would take more than running off with pirates to make Barriss Offee forget her manners.

The girl announced herself with a slither of rope and the clunk of boots on wood as she slid down to the deck.

“Should be smooth sailing,” she reported to the crew in general, and promptly reached out to knock three times on the nearest mast. “But let’s not get ambitious until we’ve got some actual crew on this beauty. Speaking of, good morning, _Miss Offee._ Pirate suits you.”

Barriss cleared her throat self-consciously, pulling at her sleeves. The pirates had brought some of their own supplies onboard and their captain was close enough to Barriss’ size. It was nothing special; just a loose cotton shirt and trousers in a man’s style, a band of torn fabric to tie her hair back, and a pair of boots pulled from the stores that had already been onboard. She’d supplemented it with a dark blue officer’s jacket that somehow made the ensemble look even less legitimate. But it was better than a nightgown, certainly, and had been offered freely and without embarrassing fanfare.

And really, given the circumstances, there was no excuse for rudeness.

“I.” She swallowed. “Thank you. I do genuinely appreciate your hospitality...Captain?”

The girl’s shoulders relaxed, and this time her grin seemed much more natural than Barriss had seen before. She perched on a barrel across from Barriss, handing her half a loaf of bread to go with her apple. “Never got around to introducing myself the other day, did I?”

“No,” Barriss agreed. All right, her tone was a bit acerbic, but she was entitled to that much. “You were somewhat distracted by taking me hostage.”

“Pirate,” the girl reminded her. “I wouldn't have hurt you whether you screamed or not, if that helps.”

Barriss was skeptical, but let it pass.

“Anyway.” She offered a hand; after a moment of hesitation, Barriss took it. The pirate’s handshake was warm and firm, but not crushing. “Nice to meet you properly. It’s Ahsoka. Ahsoka Tano.”

Barriss nodded politely and took her hand back.

“So.” It wasn’t quite a drawl, but Ahsoka looked at her with great interest and a slight smile. “Don’t think I didn’t notice, Barriss. Or is it Miss Offee, still?”

“To you.”

If Ahsoka took offense to that, she didn’t show it. _“You_ were quoting the Code when I found you,” she said. Her voice was mild and unthreatening, but there was nothing casual or teasing in her eyes now. “And quoting it _well._ So now I’m interested. You know an awful lot about the Brethren for a well-bred lady.”

“You’re imagining things.” Barriss brushed her hair behind her ears. “My mother took care with my education, I’ve studied ethics and law since I was a child. The Code of the Brethren is a fascinating piece of legislation. If it were enforceable it might even be worthy of great respect. It was a worthwhile study in what common people value in their laws as opposed to those in power.”

Ahsoka’s expression was...disorienting. Focused. “That could almost have been a compliment.”

Barriss cast around for something to say to that, but gave up after a moment. Normally she would fill the awkward silence by complimenting the ship, changing the subject; but given she had been complicit in the theft of this one mere hours before, it felt inappropriate.

Luckily, Ahsoka didn’t appear to be expecting an answer. She moved off to check up on the rest of her tiny crew. Rex clapped Fives on the shoulder and gestured him to the helm, taking her spot near Barriss.

“Captain’s still kicking herself for not making you stay back on the docks,” he said, not unkindly. “Wasn’t time to argue and we weren’t about to send you back to that kind of scum, but she’s gone and branded herself as a kidnapper now if they figure out you’re not on the _Resolute.”_

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think—”

Rex waved the concern off. “Not your fault. Besides, there’s a good chance the docks got blasted to pieces. But she’s got a soft heart for a pirate and she thinks with you in her care she’s got to worry about your safety now, too, on top of everything else. You’ll probably be with us for a while, until we can figure out safe passage; and the kinds of ports we put in at are really no place for a girl like you. Begging your pardon.”

“Do pirates do that often?” Barriss asked. “Beg anyone’s pardon, I mean.” He laughed.

“Eh, depends on the pirate.” He waved a weathered hand. “Sometimes you get real ugly characters, sometimes good men who’d die to save a stranger’s child. Mostly in the middle. But you know, kid, speaking from experience, you get the same bunch in the King’s Navy. The uniforms are just worse.”

Barriss considered it.

“Which are you?” she asked.

Rex gave a rough laugh. “Well,” he said. “I like to think I’m a good man. Maybe just good _enough,_ mind. Better than some. No one on this ship is cruel for the fun of it, we don’t hurt people because we can. I’ve served under decorated officers that couldn’t say that much.”

“Most people would say that good men don’t become pirates.”

“Do good men become privateers?” He shrugged. “I’ve been Navy enlisted, I was an officer once, I’ve been a pirate and I’ve been a pirate with papers from the King saying it’s an honorable profession. You attack honest merchants in transit who knew the risks, and you take what they have; is it worse to say you live for the fight and open sea and you enjoy it, or to lie? I’ll bet I don’t find out in this life, anyway.”

Barriss examined her apple for a long moment.

“I still struggle with the idea that anyone could choose that life,” she decided. “At the end of the day there’s no motive behind it but greed. No one _has_ to choose to place themselves above the law.”

Rex inclined his head, but there was something sad and serious on his face. He glanced over to his captain, and Barriss followed the look on reflex.

Ahsoka stood on _Fulcrum’s_ rail, leaning casually against a sheet line with one ankle crossed over the other as if she were on a city street. Fine, intricate braids fell almost to her waist, bound out of her face by blue-and-white ribbon and tucked under an odd, jaunty two-pointed hat. And she looked out over the sea like…like she saw something in it that no one else could.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Rex said quietly.

Barriss forced herself to look back at the man. She couldn’t find the words to ask, but he saw the question in her face. The smile he gave wasn’t a happy one.

“What,” he said. “You think she just woke up one day, decided to go pirating? The captain and her brother were the best pair of honest merchants on the water, easy.” He smiled at Barriss’ surprise. “That’d be before I met her. Her brother worked himself half to death to buy this little sloop, named her the _Twilight.”_

Barriss laughed. “After the legend?” she asked. “The ghost ship that can never be followed. That’s either a _very_ bold good-luck charm or courting disaster, if I know sailors’ superstitions at all.”

Rex gave her an odd look, then answered, “Yeah—yeah, named after the legend, right. Captained it well by all accounts, and she learned right next to him.”

“Parents?”

Rex gave her a reproachful look. “I reckon if there was much to tell she’d have brought it up. Her brother raised her, that’s all I know.”

Barriss flushed slightly and bowed her head. “Of course.”

Rex grunted, but apparently the misstep wasn’t nearly enough to dampen his eagerness to tell a good story. “Well, they made a name for themselves, didn’t they? You hear stories as a sailor, and if there’s one thing that stays the same it’s that this man was brilliant. He got maneuvers out of that little ship that shouldn’t have been possible, won battles with pirates that had him outgunned twice over. There were rumors half the pirate crews in the Caribbean had standing orders to turn and run if _they_ saw _him_ coming.”

Barriss smiled at the image. “Not exactly the traditional arrangement between pirates and lightly-armed merchant sloops.”

Rex shook his head in obvious awe. “A sailor like that turns up once every couple generations. And that’s if you’re lucky. The _Twilight_ didn’t look like much, but she was the diamond of the merchant marine.”

 _Was._ Barriss glanced again at the still, quiet figure looking out over the water. “I take it something happened.”

Rex winced. “Well, it was just another contract on the surface. Picking up a load of cargo for transport to certain settlements in the Caribbean. They’d done the job a hundred times. And it’s not that unusual, with certain kinds of contractors, not to know what exactly you’re transporting until you get the manifest; sometimes _they_ don’t know for certain what they’ll have until the ship gets there.”

Barriss sat forward. “What was the cargo?” She could think of any number of disasters. Contraband that the captain didn’t realize was stolen, perhaps he’d been asked to transport volatile materials like weapons or ammunition; a tiny stray spark would doom everyone on board…

“There wasn’t any,” Ahsoka said from her shoulder.

Barriss jumped; she hadn’t realized anyone could walk so quietly on the deck of a ship, wearing heavy boots. Seemingly without realizing it, Ahsoka rubbed an old scar on her wrist that Barriss hadn’t noticed before; a mark like a cattle brand, a ropy letter _P._

“I don’t…”

Ahsoka’s voice was quiet but hard. “There wasn’t any. People aren’t cargo.”

Barriss’ breath caught with sudden understanding, and Ahsoka inclined her head in a short, sharp acknowledgement. She seemed about to say something else when there was a sudden sharp whistle from the rigging.

“Ship to port!”

Ahsoka’s head snapped up.

Rex had also straightened. “The _Resolute,_ sir?”

“Can’t be.” But Ahsoka’s face was grim. “I’d feel better if it was. Echo, I need an eye on those sails yesterday!”

Barriss didn’t want to intrude, but she couldn’t help asking, “The _Resolute_ is the pirate vessel that attacked Fort Royal, isn’t she?”

Ahsoka hummed in affirmation. “She’s mine. Or _was,_ up until six months ago. This isn’t her.”

“You sound very sure.” Barriss forced herself to be calm. In all likelihood this was a Royal Navy vessel, which could only be a good thing for her.

The wry smile Ahsoka gave her was unexpected to say the least.

“Hey,” she said. “I loved that ship, but trust me, I traded up. A ship of the line _sounds_ like an impressive catch—until you have to run. Nobody’s catching us with the _Resolute.”_

Echo called down again. “Looks like a merchant ship, sir! Brig of some sort, but she’s too far off to tell more than that.”

There were sighs of relief from a few of the crew, but Ahsoka barely reacted.

“Hold steady,” she ordered. “Hardcase, get on a gun in case she gets any closer.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Barriss. “With six people?”

“Not now, please.”

The pirate crew ignored the exchange. The man Barriss could only assume was called Hardcase ducked below, and after a moment she heard the rattle of a single cannon being run out. Much good _that_ would do them if this turned violent!

For some time, there was silence. If they’d seen the merchant ship, she had to have seen them; but the entire crew waited to hear the report on their target’s movement.

“Coming about,” Echo reported. “She’s moving to intercept.”

“This ship can outrun her, sir.” That was Jesse, voice pitched low.

“She can,” Ahsoka acknowledged. “But _we_ can’t, not with six people and a civilian. We barely got the sheets up in the first place. If they get much closer it doesn’t matter how stupid that merchie is, it’s not exactly gonna be hard to figure out we’re not a Navy escort!”  
  
“Hardcase can get off a warning shot.” Rex’s brow was furrowed as he tried to work through the problem. “But they’ll be way too close by then for it to do much good.”

Barriss shifted, uncomfortable. Pirates or not, these people had risked their own safety to rescue her from...from what, she was trying not to think about for too long. In these waters, merchant vessels ran nearly as heavily armed as the Navy itself. _Fulcrum_ wouldn’t be able to put up any fight if that ship got near her, and…

They were pirates, criminals. Barriss wasn’t naive enough to think that their friendliness and decency toward her meant they weren’t killers and thieves. But she didn’t...enjoy the thought of seeing them at the end of a noose. That in itself wasn’t wrong.

Was it?

“Captain,” she said quietly.  
  
_“Not right now,_ kitten.”  
  
“Captain,” she repeated more firmly. “If you have a flag, I suggest you raise it.”  
  
Ahsoka Tano blinked and turned to stare at her, and Barriss spared a moment to hope she’d read the young woman correctly and that Ahsoka wasn’t the type of captain whose ego was easily wounded.  
  
“Come again?”  
  
Barriss plowed forward. “Run up a pirate signal, you must _have_ one. That vessel is approaching you because it thinks you’re a naval escort ship! Taking down the Navy flag can hardly make the situation worse at this point.”  
  
There was a pause.  
  
“She’s got a point,” Ahsoka acknowledged. “She really shouldn’t be giving orders on my ship, but she’s got a point. _Fives!_ Run up the flag.”

If there was any hesitation about the source of those orders, the crew didn’t show it. Moving efficiently, they hauled down _Fulcrum’s_ naval flags and replaced them with a vaguely familiar sigil. Black silk, unfurling in the wind with a snap to display a jagged pattern in bone-white, traced with thinner red lines out the outside—two parallel bars, flaring out in the center to form a hollow diamond. It matched Ahsoka’s most striking facial tattoo. Idly, Barriss wondered which had come first.

For almost a full minute, with a pirate flag waving over their heads, they waited.

The news was bad.

“She’s turning in, sir!” Echo reported. “She’s ready to fight!”

There were curses across the deck, and Barriss felt her stomach twist with a combination of fear and embarrassment. She’d thought the black flag would work…

 _“Damn_ it,” Ahsoka muttered. “That skipper’s smarter than he should have been. He must be wondering why we would show our colors so soon.”

Rex cleared his throat. “You might be giving him too much credit, sir,” he pointed out. “Plenty of men feel safer fighting than running, especially in a fat merchie. He knows he can’t get away, and he's got the firepower to send us straight to hell whether he knows it or not.” He glanced at Barriss. “Begging your pardon again. It was worth a shot, miss.”

Ahsoka nodded slowly. “I’m not writing off the possibility that he’s figured out we’re in trouble,” she said. “And when we keep running it’ll confirm it. But he might decide it’s not worth the fight. _Hardcase!”_ She called through an open hatch. “Run out all the guns on the port side. If he thinks we can get a broadside off he might turn off the idea. Fives, Jesse, on me! Let’s get a little more speed out of this canvas if we can, yeah?”

For the next twenty minutes or thereabout, a dark tension hung over the ship while Barriss tried to appreciate the irony. A prize pirate ship, the jewel of the Royal Navy stolen fully-stocked with ammunition from right under their noses, facing a valuable merchant prize—and running before it with her tail between her legs.

Then, finally, a shout from Echo: _“Turning away, sir!_ She’s running.”

The tension snapped as the men whooped and laughed. Rex accepted a clasp on the shoulder from his captain and jumped into the ratlines, climbing up to join his brothers in watching the merchant retreat.

Ahsoka gave a tight smile. She nodded to Rex, then turned to give Barriss a speculative look. When she noticed she was being watched in return, her smile widened. She brushed her fingers over the edge of her hat in Barriss’ direction in what could almost have been a gentlemanly gesture, and excused herself.

* * *

 _Fulcrum_ whispered around her as she ducked into the hold.

 _Damn_ it. Ahsoka pounded a fist against the timbers. She’d been trying so hard not to think about the _Twilight,_ the way she used to be. Not thinking about Anakin was a lost cause, but—didn’t she have enough to worry about, without the pang in her chest that came with remembering the old days?

She’d die before she knuckled under to the EITC, she took a fierce unashamed pride in who and what she was. Ahsoka Tano would be an honest pirate gladly before she became a servant of the monsters that ran the Company. But she thought at heart all but the worst pirates must think back sometimes and miss the honest work.

Anakin had talked about going freelance as escorts; skipping the heavy cargo that impeded their maneuverability and offering their services to the big, fat ships that couldn’t defend themselves as easily. They’d been planning to do it, after a few more merchant runs to build up the funds.

Back...before. Before everything.

Her breath hitched as, just for a moment, her lungs remembered being filled with billowing smoke. Smoke and salt, and she couldn’t tell which was the source of the blackness choking her…

She tightened her grip on the beam, and breathed deep. The waves breaking against _Fulcrum’s_ bow breathed with her, in and out, steady, sure. After a moment, the memory passed.

 _Where are you, Skyguy?_ she thought miserably. _Come on, Anakin. Talk to me._

She opened her eyes, and frowned.

Weird. She’d expected a Royal Navy ship to be better maintained, especially one as highly valued as _Fulcrum._ How in the hell did a ship grow barnacles on the inside, anyway? As she watched, a mussel opened and closed its lips. Hermit crabs scuttled along the beams and wriggled between the cracks.

“He won’t come.”

Ahsoka shrieked.

It wasn’t her proudest moment, and it wouldn’t have done much for her reputation as a competent and efficient pirate captain if there’d been anyone to see it. But she felt it was pretty justified; the rough, salt-sore voice had come out of nowhere.

Not nowhere. Ahsoka frowned and took a cautious step toward the dark shadows in the corner. The...rot, the decay, the cold darkness of a shipwreck in the abyss, spread out from one spot.

She recognized the man standing there. Or...what was left of him.

“...Tup?”

Tup gave her a pained, crooked smile.

“Hey there, sir,” he croaked.

Ahsoka realized she was staring, but she couldn’t help herself. “What happened to you?” she breathed.

Tup looked _awful._ His face was gaunt; pale and waxy like...she tried not to think _a bloated corpse._ His hair fell in greasy strings. His eyes were glassy. As he turned to face her, Ahsoka’s stomach heaved; live barnacles burst from the skin on the right side of his face.

“He won’t come, sir,” Tup repeated. The visceral horror didn’t fade, but it was joined by an even harsher tug of pain. His voice was ragged, but more than that it was hopeless. He spoke like a man too exhausted to go on. “He can’t. You have to stop calling to him.”

Ahsoka shook her head without meaning to. “I don’t understand. What’s—”

“He’ll kill you. He doesn’t have a choice. They’ll make him, sir. He couldn’t stop them.”

“Anakin?” No, that wasn’t right. “He wouldn’t. Anakin would never hurt me. What’s going on? Why won’t he talk to me, why—where is he? And what happened to your…” She gestured. “I saw Anakin six months ago! He was going to visit the twins, he was fine!”

Tup shook his head. Seawater ran off him in rivulets.

“I can’t tell you that,” he said. “He told me not to. Said if you knew, you’d try to help.”

“No kidding!” Ahsoka took a step forward. “Tup, if my brother’s in trouble, you’d better tell me what’s going on! He obviously needs help, he can’t protect me from everything! Will you just—”

“You can’t.” Tup’s voice was shutting down, becoming more and more hollow. “There’s nothing to be done anymore. Let him go. Save yourself. He wasn’t supposed to send anyone. If they find out I was here…”

“They?” Ahsoka pressed. “Tup, don’t do this. Who’s _they?_ ”

“He sent me to warn you.” Tup didn’t even seem to hear her anymore. “They told him he couldn’t. He sent me to make sure you knew. He sent me to tell you to run.”

He was stepping back, water rushing off him in waves now as he melted between the boards of _Fulcrum_ ’s watertight hull. “Tup, don’t! Who’s they? Run from _what?_ Tup, _what’s wrong with Anakin?”_

“He sent me to warn you,” Tup muttered. “Sent me to warn you. He sent me to tell you…”

The waves rushed by against _Fulcrum’s_ hull. Tup was gone.

Ahsoka clenched her fist, and her blood ran cold.

* * *

Barriss’ balance was not nearly as good as Ahsoka’s. She _sat_ on the rail, and kept one arm firmly around a secure line.

If she felt a twinge of guilt over how _right_ it felt, the rush of the sea eased it. She...she was drawn to the sea, she always had been, to the crashing waves and the snap of sails. She was a sailor’s daughter and a lady’s daughter and there would always be moments, with that kind of bloodline, when the stifling restrictions of society grew almost too much to bear. Was it any wonder she dreamed of the freedom of the sea?

Just because she wasn’t supposed to didn’t mean she never had. Just because she knew it was impossible for a woman of her status to ever be an honest sailor...it didn’t mean anything. It was only a passing fancy. The kind of passing fancy that had stuck with her since she was a child and only grown stronger with age.

The thud of booted footsteps announced the captain’s return. She didn’t seem to notice Barriss—or much of anything, really. She nodded tersely to Jesse before moving to Rex’s shoulder at the helm.

Her voice was pitched low; but Barriss was close enough that she could just barely make it out.

“Rex,” she muttered. “No chance we can get any more speed out of these sails, is there?”

He blinked in surprise. “I don’t think so. We’re flying as it is. Is there a hurry, sir? There’s nobody chasing us.”

Ahsoka’s hand, resting on the helm, clenched.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said, and tilted her hand to show Rex something in her palm.

The man immediately went pale; the kind of ashen grey Barriss had only ever seen in men and women about to faint. Or about to die.

“You know, Captain,” he said shakily. “We might be able to coax a bit more speed from her after all.” She dipped her head, and Rex took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Echo! Take the helm!”

Ahsoka strode off as the men switched places, idly wrapping her right hand in a strip of cotton. After a moment’s hesitation, Barriss followed her.

In theory she didn’t want to encourage familiarity from pirates. In practice the prospect of not knowing something took priority.

“What are we running from?” she asked. She only just managed to keep her voice down, taking her cue from Ahsoka’s discretion.

Ahsoka glanced over and raised one tattooed eyebrow. “Eavesdropping is rude,” she said drily.

“As is avoiding a question.”

Ahsoka shook her head. This time, it wasn’t a condescendingly amused gesture. There was a deadly seriousness about it.

“Don’t ask,” she said softly. “You don’t need to know that. It’s better if you…” Something passed across her face, and she reconsidered. “It’s...not the kind of thing you can unknow. This isn’t your world. I’ll find someone reliable on Tortuga and put you on a ship, that’s all you need to worry about.”

Barriss waited.

After a minute, Ahsoka sighed.

“You don’t _want_ to know,” she said. “This kind of thing changes you, okay? There’s nothing wrong with the ship and you’re not in any danger as long as you get on the right boat at Tortuga. Don’t.”

“You know you’re only making me more curious.” Barriss watched the girl’s face. The pained expression seemed genuine. What could possibly have happened? She’d only ducked down to the lower decks for a few minutes. Had she found notes of some kind? Discovered a plot, learned that some hideout or other had been discovered? “I’m not as delicate as you seem to believe, Captain Tano.”

Ahsoka’s lips twitched seemingly against her will. Barriss’ irritation spiked preemptively at what she knew would be a sly, mocking comment; when Ahsoka finally spoke, therefore, it surprised her.

“You’re really not, are you.” She sighed. “All right. I received word about my brother. I’m worried about him.”

“He’s _alive?”_ Barriss blurted. She’d assumed from the way Rex talked that Ahsoka’s brother had been executed, but—oh, surely not. That quiet sadness could just as easily have come from a vicious falling-out between them, the kind of thing that might occur if someone she loved and trusted had willingly transported slaves. But Rex had spoken of him so fondly, surely…

Ahsoka just looked at her, sharp and focused.

“My brother,” she said clearly. “Captain of the _Twilight._ How much do you know about Anakin Skywalker?”

For a moment, Barriss just looked at her.

“Oh, of course,” she finally snapped. “How foolish of me. And I suppose the man at the helm is Poseidon? Does that make you Blackbeard in disguise?”

Ahsoka shook her head, very slightly, just once.

“It’s not a legend, Barriss.” Her eyes were an absurdly bright blue, burning and intense against her dark skin. “I was there. Anakin Skywalker is my brother.”

“Anakin Skywalker is a _myth,”_ Barriss hissed. “I’m not so sheltered that I don’t realize that! Yes, I know the legend of the _Twilight,_ and I know that if a real ship by that name ever even existed it burned to the waterline almost a hundred years ago!”

Ahsoka’s eyes flashed.

“You’re right.” For the first time Barriss had seen, there was real anger simmering just under the surface. “We were betrayed. The Company planted a man in our crew. They were hunting us like sharks but we could have _run_ that line, with cover of night on our side. Until that worm set off a flare and broke our cover. But why am I bothering to tell you that when you know the story already? Why don’t you tell me, Miss Offee. _Tell me again what happened to the_ _Twilight.”_

Faced with an angry and apparently delusional pirate captain, she should have felt intimidated; but Ahsoka, for all her sudden anger, made no threatening movement. Barriss took a deep breath and firmly brought her thoughts back in line.

“It was boarded—she was boarded.” Barriss tried to think back to what she’d read. “The boarders...destroyed the lifeboats, according to the myth. And then set her on fire with all hands. That’s why the legend is of a ghost ship. Charred black, with burnt sails, crewed by the dead. In some versions she attacks merchant vessels for revenge on the merchant company that murdered her, in others she protects them out of a desire to see that no others die that way. In most she’s just a shadow.”

“Same story, different versions.” Ahsoka’s anger seemed...tempered, somewhat. “There’s always a bit of truth in legends. But none of them really know.”

Barriss swallowed. “But—Ahsoka, Captain Tano, she doesn’t _exist._ It’s a story, a superstition…”

It felt absurd, having this conversation on a sunny afternoon. Weren’t ghost stories meant to be told on fogbound, moonless nights?

“She exists.” Ahsoka turned to stare determinedly out over the water. And—well, Barriss had heard conviction in sailors’ voices before, talking about silly myths like mermaids and ghost ships, guardian spirits in the form of birds, a green flash at sunset. This solemn certainty was new, though. “But not the way you think. And it wasn’t all hands.”

“I’m sorry?”

Ahsoka’s eyes closed.

“It wasn’t all hands. It was all hands but the captain.” After a long moment, she took a deep breath. “They took axes and sledgehammers to the boats. Drowned us in bodies and held what was left of the crew at gunpoint to do it. Then they beat him half senseless in front of us, locked us all belowdecks, and dragged him off the ship. And _then_ they burned her.” She swallowed. “They burned her and us along with her just to make him watch.”

Barriss reminded herself firmly that this was impossible and the story had taken place over eighty years before. She had to, because the chilling horror in Ahsoka’s voice, the sound of tugging at a raw wound, was close to making her believe it.

Ahsoka was quiet for a while, watching the waves.

“And then…” She breathed out slowly. “No one had ever seen anything like it. I still don’t...we don’t know how he did it. But one minute we were dying, and the next…”

A hand squeezed Ahsoka’s shoulder; Rex, who’d come up to them without Barriss noticing.

“The sea always did seem to _know_ him,” the man said quietly. “He served her too well to have escaped her notice. Some sailors, the best ones, they read the ocean like a book. Skywalker read it like music. It was a sixth sense. So when he called on the sea, she answered.”

Ahsoka’s eyes were closed. She almost smiled, and some of the pain left her face.

“One minute we were dying,” she repeated in a murmur. “And the next the waves swallowed the hull, put the fire out. We were drowning and then we weren’t. There was black water over our heads, but all of a sudden we could breathe. The wounds healed.” Seemingly without realizing it, she rubbed a spot on her abdomen. “The burns vanished like they’d never been there. That was the deal, wasn’t it? His ship and crew, in return for whatever the sea would ask of him.”

Barriss shivered. “That’s a dangerous bargain,” she said, forgetting for a moment that it was impossible.

Ahsoka shook her head. “The sea isn’t cruel,” she said. “Harsh. Unforgiving. It’s not...human. Its demands aren’t human. But not cruel on purpose. He asked to save us from death, you understand? He asked her not to claim something that should have been hers. And she agreed. But the price...people die at sea every day. Who cares for them? So she let him save us, but only if he would show the same care and respect for every soul lost at sea. Protect them the way he protected us. So...the _Twilight.”_

“Ferryman of the dead,” Rex agreed. “It’s a sharp price to pay for what he did.”

A quiet sort of mourning passed between them. After a moment, Ahsoka reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Get back to work, sailor.”

A chuckle from Rex. “Aye, sir.”

It did not escape Barriss that Ahsoka Tano had failed to answer the question.

She watched the young woman push off from the rail and gather herself, moving away to call orders to her people, and thought again:

_What are you running from?_


	2. Act of Compassion

  
Raucous laughter and the sound of distant gunshots greeted them as they stepped onto the docks.

Ahsoka glanced over her shoulder with a wicked grin. She turned to walk backwards, spreading her arms wide.

“Welcome to Tortuga, milady,” she said with a mock bow. The young woman sticking noticeably close to Rex’s side rolled her eyes, and Ahsoka tapped her hat politely before turning to face forward again, falling into step with her people. “Breathe it in, you’ll miss it when you’re gone.”

Barriss Offee stepped delicately over a drunk man snoring in the dirt. “Will I?”

“It does have personality, sir,” Rex agreed as Fives reached down to rifle through the man’s pockets.

Ahsoka placed a casual hand on Barriss’ hip, guiding her a few steps further from the alleyway on that side of the street. Like clockwork, a rum-soaked sailor made a halfhearted grasp in their direction, hand closing on air.

“This is the most honest town on the planet, kitten.” Ahsoka was enough a gentleman to only let her hand linger for a few moments as she let it fall. “Simple, straightforward transactions and no secrets. Jesse,” she added, sidestepping without looking as someone fell off a second-story balcony. “Take the night, you did good.” She’d like to give the same freedom to the others, but someone had to watch the _Fulcrum_ and Echo and Hardcase had drawn the short straws.

Barriss had proven herself shockingly adaptable over the past couple of days; Ahsoka’s initial impression had been accurate. She kept her head, didn’t panic easily, and while her practical knowledge of sailing left a lot to be desired she was a quick enough learner. She’d made herself downright useful on the _Fulcrum,_ which no one had anticipated.

She still looked more uncomfortable than amused by the chaos around them, though, and Ahsoka softened a bit. It didn’t take a lot to put a girl on edge in these surroundings.

“Best thing about this place,” she said, raising her voice just enough to catch Barriss’ attention over the sound of shattering glass nearby. “Everyone’s enjoying themselves too much to care about you. Probably the one place where just about everyone minds their own business and nothing else.”

As an illustration, she reached out and flipped open a random purse. It was still attached to a man, who was deeply engrossed in a slurred conversation with a trio of women only technically wearing what might be called clothing.

“Anything you want you can find,” she explained, casually counting out the man’s coins one by one. The girls he was talking to were visibly trying not to smile. “Which makes folks very friendly and not really inclined to worry about whatever anyone else is doing. When there’s cheap drink and good company close by, a sailor’s business gets boring pretty fast.” Having emptied the man’s purse, she pocketed roughly half and tossed the rest to one of the girls, who grinned and blew her a kiss.

Barriss rolled her eyes, but there was laughter in her eyes now all the same and she’d certainly relaxed. Ahsoka bowed deeply to the trio in the doorway and continued down the street.

Their destination was about half a mile further on, which meant Ahsoka ducked three thrown bottles and five misaimed punches before arriving. She also swiped a stranger’s drink, caught a runaway horse with a naked man tied behind it, completely lost track of Fives somewhere in a brawl, and was kissed by four complete strangers and one young woman who realized halfway through that Ahsoka didn’t recognize her. That last one involved a slap hard enough that her head was still ringing when they finally arrived.

It didn’t look like much; the Open Circle was a run-down old tavern that would have been a block off the main street if Tortuga was organized enough to have things like “blocks” or “roads”. But as with everything in a pirate’s life, what it looked like didn’t matter nearly so much as what one could find inside.

In this case, what they found inside was a violent brawl, but that was only to be expected.

Barriss was indecently amused as they ducked around the edge, looking for one of the more out of the way tables. Ahsoka cursed and worked her jaw.

“I swear to Christ she knocked out one of my teeth.”

Barriss raised an eyebrow and said archly, “I have a sneaking suspicion you deserved that.”

“I’ve never seen her before!” Ahsoka protested. “She’s got me mixed up with someone else!”

“Mmm.” The girl looked more amused than ever. “As you wish.”

Muttering under her breath about leaving her here and seeing who’d be laughing then, Ahsoka left her guest in Rex’s care and grabbed a bottle of cheap wine off a table as she slipped off into the crowd. She found the corner she’d been looking for, slung her feet up on the table, and waited.

She wasn’t waiting long; she’d barely made a dent in her bottle when a young woman slid onto the bench across from her and placed a new one on the table with a heavy clunk.

Ahsoka grinned and sat up.

“Steela.”

Steela Gererra gripped Ahsoka’s arm. “It’s been too long.”

“Far too long,” Ahsoka agreed. “But you were busy.” She released Steela’s forearm and sat back, resting one foot on the edge of her chair. “Thanks for agreeing to see me on such short notice.”

Steela waved the thanks off. “It’s not like we’ve had anything better to do.”

Which was exactly what Ahsoka wanted to hear, but she didn’t want to look too eager. “Who’s we? I mean, I assume you’ve still got Saw with you. All your old people sticking around?"

Steela sighed and braced her elbows on the table. “As much as they can, but I can’t ask them to give up their livelihood. Quite a few of them have bled off. I can’t stop them, I haven’t got anything to keep them here at the moment.” She gave a pained grimace. “Not much of a captain without a ship. And I know my brother’s getting impatient.”

Ahsoka took a very casual swig of incredibly terrible wine.

“Would they take orders from Rex?” she asked lightly.

Steela’s eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline. “Only if they served under him.”

Ahsoka laughed. “Good answer. As it happens, I’ve got a ship. And she’s a lady, at that. You know the _Fulcrum,_ I take it.”

“HMS _Fulcrum,_ fastest ship in the Royal Navy, unless there’s another one. Why, did you find some eight-gun slip you think can outrun her?”

Ahsoka smirked.

Steela was confused for a second, and then her eyes widened. “You didn’t.”

“Only reason you don’t know already is there’s nobody faster to have brought the news.”

A low whistle. “I don’t know how you managed that, but I can believe it. So what do you need me for?”

“Ever tried fighting a brig with six people and a civilian?” Ahsoka asked bluntly. “I’m hiring crew and you’re the best, but only if you can sail under my colors. If you can’t, I’ll just try to scrape up the dozen and change sailors on this rock who are still half sober.”

Steela snorted. “And I’ll find you some mermaids to go with them.” She shook her head. “I’ll take that offer. I won’t swear my life to you or anything, but that’s a good ship and I remember serving under you. I can do that again, for a while at least.”

“Most people would say I’m asking for it,” Ahsoka pointed out. “Taking a skilled, charismatic second mate and letting her crew the whole ship with her own loyal people. That sounds like a mutiny waiting to happen.”

Steela regarded her for a long moment, and didn’t deny the possibility. Ahsoka respected her for that.

“You’ll treat my people fairly?” she asked. “As if we were new to you. Punishments that fit the crime, if it comes down to that?”

Ahsoka nodded.

“Treasure’s an even share?”

“That’s how I do things.”

“And you won’t shy away from a fight, or throw us into battles too dangerous for the prize that we could have run from?”

Ahsoka gave her a hurt look. “Steela!”

Steela grinned and held her hand out again. “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about from me.”

Ahsoka clasped her arm to seal the bond. “What about your brother? I know a lot of your men listen to him.”

Steela winced. “Saw’s loyal,” she said. “To me, at least. I’ll keep him in line. If I get hints he might cause trouble, you can put him ashore, I won’t protest.”

After a moment of consideration, Ahsoka nodded. “Good enough for me. Get your people to the dock at dawn. I’ve got some other things to take care of.”

* * *

Entirely too many hours later, Ahsoka kicked an empty rum bottle into a wall.

Barriss patted her arm. “I appreciate the effort, Captain.”

“You’d _think,”_ Ahsoka complained, “That out of every ship in Tortuga I’d be able to find _one_ semi-honest merchant skipper who wasn’t a leering creep!”

There was an awkward pause.

“...Would you?” Barriss asked politely.

“Would we seriously do that?” agreed Fives, who’d turned up about thirty minutes ago with a satchel full of silver and a mouth full of blood and no memory of acquiring either.

Rex seemed reluctant to disagree with his captain, but finally said, _“I_ wouldn’t, sir.”

“I can have you all flogged,” she reminded them. They laughed. She got absolutely no respect as the beloved immortal sister to the ferryman of the dead around here. It was a tragedy.

Steela’s people were probably all still drinking their bad luck away scattered around Tortuga; the only ones onboard _Fulcrum_ when they got back were the boys she’d left watching the store. She waved Fives and Rex off to get some sleep, but Ahsoka needed a minute.

She closed her eyes and breathed, and tried not to think about the cold, pulsing blackness in her right hand. It had been so long since she was able to stand on the deck of her own ship and know she had a loyal crew to sail it. This should have been a moment of dizzying power and profound happiness. Not marred by the chill of the waiting abyss.

But there was no comfort in a ship, when the sea itself had marked you for destruction.

She opened her eyes to find Barriss still there, hesitating on the gangplank. Ahsoka forced herself to smile.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “Looks like you’re staying with us for a while.”

Barriss inclined her head. “Thank you. I’ll try to make myself useful and stay out of the way.”

“You’re not bad for a greenhorn,” Ahsoka pointed out, unable to help but smile. “You could be great at this someday, you know.”

Barriss cleared her throat. “I’m...not entirely certain that’s a good thing.”

“Accept the compliment, love.”

Barriss sighed. Then, hesitating again, she asked: “Are you...is everything all right?”

Before she could stop herself, Ahsoka’s marked hand clenched.

“...It’s nothing to worry about,” she told the girl. “Go and sleep.”

* * *

Lightning split the sky.

The thunderclap followed so close behind that the flash was still dancing in Ahsoka’s eyes. It was deafening and deadly, reverberating in _Fulcrum’s_ beams and making the entire ship shudder as she charged the waves. Icy salt water poured over her sides, and the rain came nearly sideways, half-blinding them.

For a moment Ahsoka had the wry thought that she might not have to worry about her curse after all, at this rate.

But the storm was only mortal. Ahsoka could fight that.

Rex staggered up to her, struggling to keep his balance on the heaving deck.

“We’re coming up on her, sir!” he shouted over the wind. “But there’s not much left! We could barely see her in the storm!”

Ahsoka acknowledged the report with a stiff nod. “Take the helm!”

She squinted through the rain, running a mental check on her people. The crew Steela’d found her were good; they wrestled what little canvas she felt comfortable flying with a will, and even Saw was responding snappily to orders. They gave off the impression of a group of men and women deeply eager to be back on the water.

Even their greenhorn had stepped up. Barriss was scared, of course she was; Ahsoka wouldn’t trust anyone on her boat who was crazy or stupid enough not to be afraid of a storm on open water, especially their first. But she’d just wrapped her hands in strips of cotton to protect them and asked politely where she would be of most use. Ahsoka had spent the time they had before the storm hit making sure she understood her knot work, then paired her off with Fives.

She wasn’t quite a prodigy, but she was far from the albatross around their necks Steela’s brother had insisted she was bound to become.

At the moment, Barriss and Fives were working alongside Steela and one of her men, prepping Ahsoka’s lifeboat. Bit of a misnomer in this weather; but she wouldn’t be going far. Worst-case scenario, she was a strong swimmer.

It was with no small amount of bubbling hysteria that Ahsoka realized what she’d just thought. As if the _worst case scenario_ was being tossed out of a lifeboat. Drowning would be a mercy.

Focus, Tano.

Barriss peered at her as she approached. “What are you doing?”

Ahsoka squeezed her shoulder, and didn’t answer.

Steela offered her an arm to help her into the little boat, as another wave crashed over _Fulcrum_ ’s bulwark. “Sir!” she yelled. “Permission to bring aboard survivors from that boat!”

It was an honorable gesture, the kind Rex would have made—the kind Ahsoka herself was prone to, in fact. She regretted having to shake her head.

“I would,” she said. “But there won’t be any.”

Steela visibly wanted to argue; but she bit her tongue and gave a jerky nod of assent before stepping back to let the lifeboat be lowered.

“Once I’m clear,” Ahsoka ordered, “tell Rex to take her away from the rocks! Keep the ship safe, ride out the storm. I’ll be back!”

 _“Where are you going?!”_ Barriss burst out, apparently unable to help herself, but the lifeboat was already away.

Ahsoka tried very hard not to think of anything in particular as she was tossed around by the black waves. It was dangerous. She focused her thoughts on nothing but the rough wood of the oars in her hands, on directing her tiny little lifeboat toward the wrecked merchant sloop splintered on the rocks. Nothing else. Not the darkness or the tight knot in her chest, or the long, choking cold stretching on forever just beneath her feet…

Her hands shook as she pulled herself out of the boat and onto the ruined ship, tying off the lifeboat. The hull was almost unrecognizable, but she could just barely, in the light of the single weak lantern bobbing in the front of the lifeboat, make out the name _Aethersprite_ painted lovingly along the bow.

The deck was splintered, what remained of it above the waves slick with blood and littered with the dead and dying. A man below, trapped and drowned before he could be reached. Too many more crushed, bled out. She could—she could sense them. She wasn’t the ferryman; but she was his right hand. When she was close enough, when she listened, she could always feel the death-call of those lost at sea. But this was _different._

Ahsoka was more than familiar enough with ghost ships; but this wreck felt darker and colder, more hopeless and more steeped in death than she’d ever seen.

There was one survivor, a skinny, pale man with hair like straw. He trembled so badly the line in his hands vibrated like a guitar string as he hauled on it, muttering to himself and staring blindly into the night.

Ahsoka moved forward to gently pull the line from his hands. Somehow he hadn’t realized that the mast had snapped in two.

“Sailor,” she said softly, and was shoved away in a sudden burst of violent strength. She stumbled and barely caught herself; when she tried again it was with a firmer hand and a sharp look, and something in the man responded to it. He didn’t fight her again, but he didn’t stop pulling on his rope, either. “Sailor, enough. Enough! You’ve run aground, you’re in shock—”

“No,” gasped, still wide-eyed and staring. “No, no. Come about, run out the guns, can’t let it—can’t find it—”

“Breathe.” She tried, unsuccessfully, to guide the line from his clenched hands again. “It’s all right, it’s—”

“Beneath us,” the man finished wildly. “It’s beneath us. _Foul breath…”_

Ahsoka glanced at the man’s stomach. He’d been run through by a jagged piece of wood. Faintly, quietly, in the back of her mind, his death began to call to her.

She squeezed his shoulder.

“As you were, sailor.”

The wildness didn’t leave the man’s eyes, but he almost focused on her. “Yes, sir. Aye sir. Coming about…”

Ahsoka pressed her hand to her stomach.

I’m sorry, she thought to the few crew still clinging to life. You weren’t the ones it wanted.

But there was no time to make amends, even if that were possible. The _Twilight_ couldn’t be tracked, and her brother had stopped talking to her; but her spirit was bound to his, and she knew he was getting close.

She took a deep breath, and doused her lantern.

Feeling her way in the dark and occasionally tripping over the bodies of sailors (too few, too few dead and dying on this ship, there should have been half again this many and she wished she could pretend it was the sea that killed them) she swung herself over the bow. She didn’t dare dive over the side, not in this weather and not marked as she was; but she managed to find a foothold against semi-submerged rock, sheltered from the worst of the breaking waves in the lee of the _Aethersprite’s_ bones. She breathed, and shivered, and waited.

She didn’t have to wait long.

It wasn’t a dramatic entrance. That on its own made her concerned for Anakin’s well-being. One moment she was alone with the sinking remains of what used to be a ship; the next, between one heartbeat and the next, before she could even blink, there was a jet-black sloop alongside the wreck.

Ahsoka knew this moment, knew it intimately. There were some still living onboard, which meant before Anakin brought the dead into his care he first had to release the dying, offer mercy to the survivors if any existed.

Heavy boots landed on the deck. The _Twilight_ had no need of grapples or boats, not here in her rightful domain. The boarding party washed up over her sides with the sea.

_“At ease, sailor.”_

This time, the squeaking rustle of the panicked, dying sailor’s attempts to haul a useless line faded. Ahsoka tried not to resent that. She needed to keep her mind and emotions still, soft and quiet like the depths of the ocean, if she was going to escape her brother’s notice long enough to do what needed to be done.

_“That’s it. Good man. Let it go. It’s over, son. It’s done.”_

She felt the men checking smashed cabins, stopping to examine bodies. One man—that would be Kix, most likely, if Anakin wasn’t aboard this time to take the responsibility for himself—passed a blade over the throat of a man too close to death already to feel it.

One of them, underwater and checking for pockets of air, paused. Ahsoka held her breath. She had the advantage; their curse or blessing served a specific purpose, and she was neither dead nor dying. But she was his captain’s sister, his crewmate, and he could not be allowed to find her. I’m not here, she told herself. I’m not here, there’s nothing but water and rock and rocks don’t feel fear, there’s nothing here to sense…

After a moment, the man returned to the deck. Most of the crew had passed on without help. It was only the lone, traumatized survivor now.

_“Let go, lad. It’s time.”_

“I’m not ready.”

Laughter, not unkind. _“No one ever is, kid. Can’t make any promises for what comes after, but there’s nothing for you here. Let it go.”_

“No! I, I can’t, I—”

Like the one before him, he never felt the mercy stroke.

Ahsoka had never been particularly religious. Her quick, quiet prayer for the man was more of a thought, the healing coolness of the ocean against burning sand. _I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’m glad it wasn’t me._

With the ship no longer trying to protect her living crew, Anakin...called them. It was a shift in the air, a harpstring plucked in the depths of the ocean. For a moment the _Aethersprite’s_ lanterns, even those smashed beyond repair, flared bright in the dark one last time; and then it was over. But with the crew’s suffering eased and their spirits drawn safely away, the lingering horror of the wreck faded with them. She was only wood and rope and canvas, now.

Her job done, the _Twilight’s_ tattered sails flared. She swung around in a neat little maneuver, and lowered her nose into the waves.

Ahsoka took a deep breath and, before she could come to her senses, dove after her.

Making any headway in the storm was next to impossible, and panic flared in her chest as she fought to catch up. At the last possible second, a wave managed to toss her the last few inches she needed to catch hold of the stern rail just before it sank out of sight.

It was too late to take a last gulp of air. The _Twilight_ raced for the deep, and dragged Ahsoka with her.

* * *

The Locker was...Ahsoka wasn’t sure there was a word for it.

 _Weird._ The Locker was weird.

The colors were both too intense and not nearly saturated enough to be natural. The waves glittered in a flat white light that was neither hot nor cold; but the scent was distant, the sound muted like she’d stuffed her ears with cotton, and when the spray hit her face there was no taste of salt. No taste of anything.

Ahsoka was used to that. But this wasn’t the Locker. This was...not what the _Twilight_ was meant to be doing.

There was a shiver in the crushing blackness as _something_ passed outside the ship, close enough that she felt its wake.

She could see nothing, but perhaps that was a mercy.

The crew of the _Twilight_ was protected; the ship of the dead could go anywhere, could always breathe, was not affected by the pressure of the deep, but that didn’t make it feel any less terrifying.

Ahsoka clung to the stern rail for a while, technically onboard the ship enough to count; she’d planned to kick out a window and climb in that way, but on second thought she’d decided she didn’t want to risk dropping in on anyone unfriendly. Eventually, as they dove too deep for the sun to follow and the lanterns began lighting themselves to compensate, she’d seen an opening, rolling over the rail and down an open hatch.

Fantastic. Mission accomplished. Now the only problem she had to contend with was that she was stranded on the undead ghost ship belonging to her brother, who was trying to murder her.

Ahsoka shivered as she peered around the dark second deck. She’d always hated these through-the-depths passages. It was too quiet. A ship wasn’t meant to be _quiet._ It was meant to creak and rock, rumble with footsteps. The sails were meant to flutter and snap in the breeze, and always, always, there was meant to be that rush of the waves crashing against her side. Here the water pressed close and silent. The lamps could barely penetrate a few feet; looking out over the bulwarks or open hatches revealed nothing but a flat void.

At least the oppressive blackness served her purpose, making it easier to press back into the shadows as she half-swam and half crawled, crablike, through the _Twilight._ It didn’t help enough to make it worth it, though. Ahsoka knew this ship better than she knew herself. She could find her way through it undetected in broad daylight, blindfolded, if she had to.

Slimy seaweed and mildew clung to railings; barnacles and mollusks pulsated on the walls and under stairs, in between coral formations that protruded from every crevice. It made Ahsoka’s blood run cold in a way she couldn’t blame on the freezing water.

Anakin had always run a tight ship. Unorthodox, maybe a little informal, never insisted on much of a dress or grooming code; but she was clean and tidy and sharp, every inch of her, or he knew the reason why.

Something was very, very wrong.

She stuck her head carefully around a corner and peered down the narrow passage. It was a long way to go with no cover, but it was also the only way to the captain’s cabin.

Her confidence in her ability to sneak around this ship was untouched, but...well, you weren’t paranoid if someone was really after you. For safety’s sake, she decided to douse the lantern. She opened the rusted door and blew it out.

Underwater.

She just tried not to think too hard about these things. Last time she’d been down here she’d leaned too far over the side trying to figure out what was propelling them forward and an angler fish hit her in the face. That was enough curiosity about the exact workings of magical ghost ships to last Ahsoka Tano _several_ lifetimes.

Anakin would know how it worked.

The door opened at her touch. It wasn’t locked, which was normal. There was a living starfish clinging to the wood, which was not.

Anakin was sitting as his desk with his head resting in his hands. It would almost have been reassuring, familiar—she’d seen this a million times, in the old days, when they were between jobs and finances were tight. It was almost normal.

Almost.

But one look at his face was enough to shatter that illusion.

“Skyguy,” Ahsoka whispered. “What _happened?”_

Anakin’s head snapped up, his eyes blowing wide in the dimly-lit cabin.

“Ahsoka,” he croaked.

He—Ahsoka swallowed. He was worse than Tup. Tup just looked half-dead; Anakin barely looked _human_ anymore. His hair was limp and matted, and it was beginning to...change. Oily hair near the base, but it was slick green seaweed that hung around his shoulders. As Ahsoka watched in horror a hermit crab crawled out of it and disappeared under his shirt. His left hand, the one he’d lost ages ago in an attempted boarding, twitched unnaturally; long white-and-orange _legs,_ like a crab’s, ripped free from the wooden base.

She tried to disguise her retch. She must not have done very well, because Anakin gave a painful, twisted smile.

“Some stuff came up, Snips.”

Ahsoka managed to choke, “No kidding.”

His expression was almost a wry grin. It vanished quickly.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “It’s not safe. If they find out…”

“That’s what Tup said.” She closed the door behind her and slid the bolt home. “Since when are you scared of _anybody,_ Anakin? Who’s _they?”_

Anakin swallowed. “I’m not supposed to tell you that.”

She stared at him. “Now you’re _taking orders?_ You barely did that when you were a common sailor!”

Anakin swiped his mutilated crab-arm out to the side. His eyes, she realized, once clear and clever, had gone flat. Solid black. Like a shark’s. “I’m working on it, Ahsoka. Listen, we have to get you out of here—”

“Not until you give me some answers.”

“That’s not really important right now—”

Ahsoka snarled. Baring her teeth, she ripped the cotton wrap off her right hand.

“No,” she spat. “For this? You owe me a _damn good explanation.”_

The mark on her hand, a black circle extending evil-looking tendrils like ink spilled on wet paper, hung damningly between them like the ring of drawn swords.

After a long moment, Anakin braced his hands against the desk and took a deep breath.

“Fine,” he said. “But grab a bottle of brandy or something for this.”

* * *

Anakin sighed.

“All right,” he said. “I don’t...it kinda all happened at once.”

Ahsoka swallowed and tightened her grip on the brandy glass. “Okay. Just...start at the basics and we can work our way up.”

Anakin thought about it.

“The chest,” he said, finally. Ahsoka’s anxiety wound tighter. Nothing good could possibly come of a story that started there.

“There’s not, like, a new chest?” she asked weakly. “That would be great.”

Anakin shook his head and tapped his breast with his good hand. “Sorry, Snips.”

Ahsoka swallowed. All right. _The_ chest, then. But that didn’t make any sense.

They didn’t talk about the chest episode much. Generally, you didn’t make small talk about that kind of incident. Anakin Skywalker was many things, but subtle was not one of them. And “not doing crazy impulsive things like symbolically carving your literal heart out of your actual physical chest” was not one of his strong suits. It had...been a bad day.

But the chest was safe, Ahsoka’d seen to that much at least. He’d wanted to throw it overboard into the sea once he’d locked his heart inside but she and Rex had managed to talk him down, convince him it would be more appropriate to bury it somewhere he could remember. And after a decade or so, as his pain started to heal, he’d gone to find it again, and he’d kept it on the ship.

The heart was safe, even if he had done something stupid and lost the chest or thrown it into the ocean after all. That chest was as powerfully magical as anything on the _Twilight._ You couldn’t open it or damage anything inside unless you had the key, and if you couldn’t trust Luke Skywalker with the key to your life, you couldn’t trust anyone.

Oh, no. He’d been going to visit Luke and Leia, last time she’d seen him…

“What happened to the twins?” she demanded.

A muscled jumped in Anakin’s jaw. “Nothing,” he bit out. “Nothing yet. They’re safe as long as I _behave.”_

 _Shit._ If the twins had been kidnapped, whoever held them wouldn’t even need the key. They already held Anakin’s heart in their hands.

Anakin was silent for a moment.

“Luke did the right thing,” he said finally. “He...I’m getting it all mixed up. Everything was fine. Luke…” He smiled, a real smile. “He’s getting older now, but he’s still the best merchant skipper out there. Freelance and legitimate after all this time. And Leia doesn’t look like she’s about to stop terrorizing London any time soon but she took a break to meet up with me…” The smile disappeared. “Didn’t. Didn’t look like she was about to stop.”

Ahsoka reached out and placed her hand hesitantly over his flesh-and-blood one.

“What happened?” she asked again.

“Trap,” he said shortly. “They boarded the _Womp Rat_ at the dock, she never had a chance. I don’t even think they knew about the chest then, they just…”

His voice shook. Ahsoka nodded for him to go on.

“Well, I mean... that didn’t go over well. I ran some of their errands, but I’m not exactly good at taking orders. I called their bluff, and they...weren’t bluffing.”

Ahsoka didn’t think ‘they’ meant the twins that time.

“They were going to kill one to make a point. I guess...I think that bastard flipped a coin in front of them. Leia. They were going to shoot Leia. And I’m pretty sure they’re lying to me about that being all they planned to do to her.”

Ahsoka tried and failed to suppress a hiss. Anakin’s dull eyes flashed in agreement.

“So Luke told them there was better way to make sure I wouldn’t disobey them again. I—he _had_ to, Ahsoka.”

“Of course he did,” she agreed softly. “So...you handed over the chest, and they already had the key.”

He nodded stiffly. “Obviously I tried a _rescue_. But I have rules and they don’t. They made me beg, Ahsoka. And I did it. I got on my knees and begged them not to hurt my kids. The only reason they agreed is that they thought it was funny. But they had…” He swallowed and rubbed the spot over where his heart used to be. “When they hold it, I can’t...I can’t refuse, Ahsoka.”

“What did they…?”

As if she didn’t already know.

Anakin’s lip curled viciously. “They said they were being _generous_ enough to _forgive my transgressions._ But I still needed to learn a lesson. And they wanted a demonstration of my power and... _usefulness,_ anyway. So. So, since...they’d heard I had a sister.”

Ahsoka rubbed her palm.

“I wasn’t supposed to warn you,” Anakin said, something wild and hunted in his expression even with those lifeless eyes. “They said they had ‘no use for antiquated traditions and honorable head starts,’ to just get it over with. Sending Tup was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, it was—I had to give you _some_ kind of warning. I couldn’t just…”

Ahsoka scoffed. “So, what,” she said. “You’re saying this was you trying to _protect_ me?”

He looked up at her, and his eyes blazed as he snarled, _“Yes.”_

She watched him for a long moment.

“I believe you.”

“That’s why I have to get you off this ship,” said Anakin. “If they found out you were here, that I let you live…”

Ahsoka took a deep breath.

“Anakin,” she asked again. “Who are ‘they’?”

Anakin just looked at her for a long moment. Then, wordlessly, struggling to get his crablike appendages to cooperate, he rolled up his left sleeve.

“You have to ask?” he said.

Standing in sharp relief against his pale skin was the old scar, a letter P. And just below that, the honor reserved for the pirate ship’s captain: the three-pronged brand of the East India Trading Company.

* * *

She didn’t deserve Rex.

It was a rare man willing to even _look_ at someone afflicted with the Black Spot for fear of the bad luck spreading. But he reached down and gripped her hand without hesitation, pulling her up and over _Fulcrum’s_ side. Ahsoka was amazed by how little time had passed; it wasn’t quite dawn yet, the sky just starting to lighten from black to royal blue.

“How’d it go, sir?”

“Full canvas,” she ordered instead of answering. She hadn’t quite been willing to believe, before. She knew what the mark meant, of course, but that Anakin would put it on _her…_

To save Luke and Leia? Of course he would. It didn’t matter that they were grown adults now, that Leia and that charming scoundrel of a smuggler she’d picked up had children of their own. The last time someone had threatened Anakin’s family, he’d summoned the sentient force of the ocean herself and sworn his soul to an eternity of half-life for a chance to save them. To protect his _children,_ Anakin Skywalker would burn the world to the waterline.

 _“Full canvas!”_ Rex shouted obediently. Then, at a normal tone, “Not well then.”

“Better than I thought,” she admitted. “Which is the problem. _Get us out of here, Rex,_ find me a friendly port by sundown and stick to the shallows where you can.”

Steela frowned, piercing blue eyes narrowing as she glanced between them. “We just _left_ port,” she pointed out.

“Where you said you’d take orders,” Ahsoka snapped. Several of the crew looked taken aback; Fives actually took half a step away from her, which was enough to knock a bit of sense back into place. “I’m doing what I can, Steela. I don’t have to explain every decision I make. I’ll let you know what’s going on once I’ve made a few arrangements. I promise, we’ll get some honest raiding done soon.”

_Just not under my command._

It was the perfect gambit, for the EITC. If Ahsoka defied them, she died. If she faded quietly into a landbound life and hid herself away from the sea, well. That was just a longer, crueller kind of death. One she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of.

Steela peered at her for a minute, then shrugged. “I trust you, captain,” she said, and walked off to get to her duties.

Ahsoka flexed her bare right hand. It didn’t make any real difference, covering the Spot up or not. The curse didn’t care. But it would make her feel better, so she nodded to Rex and went to track down some bandage linen.

She’d just made the first wrap when someone cleared their throat behind her.

“You’re injured.”

Heart pounding wildly, Ahsoka took her hand off her pistol.

“You know,” she said. “Sneaking up on nervous pirates is a great way to get some firsthand research about _getting shot in the head.”_

Barriss rolled her eyes and stepped forward, letting the door to Ahsoka’s cabin close behind her. She took the linen strip and unwound it with a businesslike manner over Ahsoka’s protests.

“You have better control than that,” she said curtly. “And—stop it, if you knew how to correctly wrap a hand wound I wouldn’t have to fix this for you—”

_“Get off!”_

Barriss actually reeled back at that, eyes wide with shock. Ahsoka swallowed, vaguely ashamed, but an apology stuck in her throat. It wasn’t _her_ fault. If Offee was capable of minding her own business—

Spoken like a true Company loyalist, Tano.

“I...it’s been a long couple weeks, kitten,” she said.

After a long moment, Barriss held out her hand. Ahsoka resisted the silent command for a moment, then meekly unwound the wrap and handed it over.

“You _are_ nervous,” the girl observed as she shook the linen out. If her voice was a bit cool, well, that was fair. “And you won’t explain why. Not even to your own crew. Hand.”

Ahsoka held it out, palm down. Barriss was having none of that. Before Ahsoka could muster the heart to say anything, her hand was flipped over.

It was a nice change, she supposed, that Barriss didn’t recoil in horror. She seemed almost...academically curious. Ahsoka had to laugh; it came out as a weak chuckle. Of course she was. The closest Barriss Offee had ever gotten to real danger was in books.

A soft thumb brushed over Ahsoka’s palm.

“It’s not a growth,” Barriss murmured. “And it doesn’t seem pressure-sensitive, like a—a bruise or a burst blood vessel. It’s almost cosmetic.”

Ahsoka gave a tight smile.

“You’re more versed in pirate lore than half this crew,” she said. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what that is.”

Barriss blinked. It took her a few seconds to respond, and when she did it was halting and a bit unsure.

“I’m...familiar with the mythology surrounding the Black Spot, of course.” She glanced up; when Ahsoka just dipped her head in acknowledgement, she seemed encouraged. “But I assumed that was mostly romantic nonsense. Why bother with ritualistic formalities? I imagine if a pirate sets out to kill another pirate, she just...does it.”

She’d had her look; her grip on Ahsoka’s wrist loosened, but her fingers kept running over the palm. It was...reassuring, a human touch against that mark of death. Ahsoka let her continue. No point in pulling her hand away now that the damage was done.

“You’re not completely wrong,” Ahsoka said quietly.

Barriss gave an unladylike snort. “Well,” she muttered. “That’s the first time since coming onboard, it would seem.”

“Oh, don’t give me that.” The grin didn’t come easily, but it was genuine. “You’re a fine sailor with a library in her head and you know it. Save the false modesty, we’re pirates.” Barriss blushed and tucked a nonexistent flyaway strand of hair behind one ear. Ahsoka shook her head. “And you’re right. Oh, I’ve seen a few cases of pirates who get passed a black spot, the ones who’ve done something unforgivable. The last time I saw it happen was...thirty years ago? And I’m not talking about what he did to a cabin boy to get it handed to him by a crewmate, but the _sharks_ never even found his body.”

“It happens, then?” Barriss’ voice was high with surprise. “In real life?”

“Not like the stories claim.” Ahsoka tried to look anywhere but at her hand. “The dot on a piece of paper or cloth...that’s just symbolic. It’s a reference. Like carrying a carving of an albatross for good luck. When some pirate gets overdramatic or philosophical about why someone needs to die, sometimes they’ll invoke that symbolism. It’s only ever a—a reflection. An echo of the real thing.”

Barriss’ fingers paused over the mark.

“The real thing.”

Ahsoka swallowed, and forced herself to look at it.

“The one you can’t escape,” she said. Every piece of sailor’s instinct told her to stop talking about this, that names had power, that speaking of it would summon the leviathan; but she was already hunted. And it was bad luck, anyway, to leave a story unfinished. “The ferryman’s curse. In a hundred years he’s never used it. It was only ever meant for the ultimate retribution, the sentence for a crime against the sea herself. You can’t outrun it. And the last thing you ever know is that you’ve angered something older and greater and more terrible than yourself.”

Barriss waited.

“The Black Spot,” Ahsoka told her. “It appears when someone’s marked as the prey of the Kraken.”

Without warning, the cabin door opened behind them.

Steela Gerrera had never been the type to waste time. Her eyes locked onto the Spot within moments; Ahsoka pulled her hand back and shoved it in her pocket, but it was too late.

To her credit, Steela barely reacted.

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s about what I thought.”

“You’re quick on the uptake.”

“That’s why you hired me.”

Ahsoka watched her carefully. She forced herself not to reach for a weapon. “Do we have a problem?”

There was a long pause. Finally, Steela sighed.

“I was telling the truth,” she said. “I trust you, and you’re a good captain. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t allow a mutiny against you.”

Slowly, Ahsoka inclined her head. “I know.”

“Yeah.” Steela’s expression was guilty. “That’s why I really am sorry about this, Ahsoka.”

* * *

Barriss didn’t have a great deal of experience with pirate mutinies. Still, she thought this was probably the most _apologetic_ mutiny the Caribbean had ever seen.

Even Rex and the others, bound and gagged by the time she and Ahsoka had been pushed onto the deck, hadn’t been mistreated. Jesse had a split lip that was already being tended to by one of Steela’s people, and that was the worst of the injuries. Considering they were outnumbered nearly five to one, subduing them must not have been that difficult.

“So let me guess.” Ahsoka’s tone was dry as she rowed them toward a sandy strip of island. “Your mother taught you that, too?”

In retrospect, she thought, grabbing Saw Gerrera’s sword and drawing it on his sister had not been the wisest decision she’d ever made. But she’d been in the middle of a mutiny by strange pirates! It had made sense at the time.

“Of course not,” she replied. “She only arranged it with some soldiers down at the fort.”

“Right.” Ahsoka’s voice was somehow even drier. “Of course.”

Barriss had offered to help row, but she’d been turned down. The whole situation was ridiculous. Who marooned a woman they liked and respected on a deserted island because of a mark on her hand?

 _“I’m sorry, Ahsoka,”_ Steela had said. _“But I didn’t sign my people up to be Kraken bait.”_

Steela had been polite enough to Barriss, even promised to put her ashore the next time they made port. As if being abandoned in a pirate port would be a step up in the world. She was willing to trust in the honor of anyone Ahsoka trusted, but…

Well that was somewhat alarming in and of itself. If truth be told she didn’t quite know why she felt such a bond of loyalty to Ahsoka. There was just...something about her.

“I hope you know the Kraken is a myth,” she said for the sake of filling the silence. Ahsoka laughed.

There was a bump and a scrape as the lifeboat nudged up on shore. Barriss climbed awkwardly out into the shallow water to help shove it past the high-tide line.

“I…” She hesitated. “It would be too much to hope an island this size might have a source of fresh water, I suppose.”

At least this time Ahsoka didn’t laugh at her.

“Not here,” she said. It was almost kind. “But the barrel should last us a few days at least.”

It was hardly traditional to provide marooned victims with a barrel of fresh water, but it had hardly been a traditional uprising. It occurred to Barriss, guiltily, that if she’d just dropped her sword when she was told to instead of sidestepping closer to the deposed captain, the water would have lasted Ahsoka twice as long.

“I’m...sorry,” she managed. “I realize I’ve been nothing but trouble for you.”

Ahsoka offered her a tired, crooked smile. “Well, you didn’t steal my ship and ditch me on a godforsaken spit of sand in the middle of the ocean, so you’re doing just fine. Actually, would you like to be second mate? I’ve got a job opening.”

Despite the circumstances, a smile tugged at her lips. “What,” she asked. “Only second mate?”

“Rex would never forgive me.” Having trudged up the beach, Ahsoka flopped down on her back in the shady treeline. “I am getting _so sick_ of this island. This has to be the third time I’ve been stranded here. Fourth? No, that was somewhere else.”

A jolt went down Barriss’ spine. “You’ve been here before?”

Ahsoka snorted. “Yeah, Aayla dumped me here when she stole the Resolute, it’s kind of a theme. Before that was about….seventy years ago, I think. Storm. Ship ran aground in the shallows and broke up, about seventeen of us survived. We managed to rescue some supplies and signal for help, though, so, no, that’s not what the song’s about.”

Barriss frowned. “Song?”

“You know. The—the song. Fifteen men on a dead man’s... _seriously?_ You don’t know that one?”

“I read _histories and essays,_ I didn’t spend a lot of time around common sailors, it wouldn’t have been—that’s not the point!” Barriss shook herself. “If you’ve been stranded here before, how did you get off the island? We can escape the same way you have before.”

“Last time, I called my brother to pick me up.”

The brief hope was dashed. “Ah.”

Well. There seemed to be nothing more to say about that.

After a long moment, she sat down next to Ahsoka and leaned against a palm tree.

The island was beautiful, really. It would almost be peaceful, if they weren’t going to die here.

“You called it the ferryman’s curse,” she said after a while. “Why would your brother give you a death mark? I had the impression you got along very well.”

Ahsoka shook her head in disbelief.

“You really want that story?” she asked. “The whole thing? It’s long and ugly.”

Barriss gestured around the tiny island. “You’re right,” she said. “There’s so much _else_ to talk about.”

Ahsoka sighed and closed her eyes.

“All right,” she said softly. It was almost lost under the sound of waves breaking. “Well. First of all, the thing you have to understand about Anakin…”

* * *

At some point, they built a fire.

It got chillier than Barriss would have expected, on a beach in the middle of the ocean once the sun went down. Detritus and driftwood and palm fronds made a convenient bonfire, and it crackled wildly in the wind behind them. They’d had to move down the beach or risk setting the shade trees on fire, and now their bare feet were only a few inches off the high tide line. Every so often a particularly ambitious wave would lap against Barriss’ toes.

The conversation had changed, over the course of the day. Ahsoka had a hundred years’ worth of stories—some bawdy, told just to see if she could make Barriss blush. Most of them, perhaps because she was nostalgic and homesick, were about the antics and arguments and deep affection a crew could get up to at sea. But more of them were the kind of thrilling tales any sailor could tell. She just had enough experience to be able to pick the best of them.

Not that she didn’t give Barriss her chance. She even paid attention. But most of Barriss’ life had been...not unhappy, not at all, but she’d spent it lost in books trying to imagine herself somewhere _else._ And it wasn’t as if she’d ever have the chance to listen to these kinds of stories again. Naval officers didn’t tell exaggerated tales with relish and dramatic gestures. They weren’t meant to _brag_ at all.

Ahsoka stretched and gave a quiet smile.

“There’s an island,” she said. “We thought we were so _brilliant_ for finding it. It’s a welcoming little place, we even thought there might be a well somewhere. And the best part is that there’s this beautiful cove, only maybe a hundred yards across and the entrance is a fraction of that, but it’s tucked off to the side surrounded by stone cliffs. Invisible from the sea, if you strap branches to the top of the mast. A ship could disappear there and the Navy would sail right past.”

Barriss hummed. It was late, getting dark, and the quiet breathing of the waves was hypnotic.

“But?” she asked.

Ahsoka shook her head. “We were stupid. We never thought to wonder: How does a harbor like that get carved out of solid rock? Well. We found out when the tide came in.”

Barriss cringed preemptively.

Ahsoka shivered. “It was like...nothing I’ve ever seen. It was because the entrance was so narrow, that was the problem. The rock must be harder there. The water tried to rush in and it bottlenecked. What should have just been the tide coming in turned that place into a—a maelstrom in a bottle, Rex called it. Nothing could have survived it. Certainly not a ship. The water went from clear as crystal to _brown,_ it kicked up so much sand and debris. There were five men on that ship, and we only ever found one body. It happened before anyone had time to react.”

For a while, they listened to the waves. The tide coming in seemed so gentle, here. Harmless.

“It’s a dangerous life you lead,” said Barriss finally.

Ahsoka sighed. It wasn’t resigned. More...wistful.

“Anything worthwhile is dangerous,” she said. “At least we’re _free.”_

She turned to look at Barriss, the firelight blazing in her eyes and making them seem even brighter.

“That’s what it’s about, kitten,” she said softly. “That’s why you love it.”

It was the gentlest Barriss had ever seen a pirate. But there was...an intensity about her, still, that took her breath away.

“I don’t…” She barely had enough air to form the words, and tried again. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course you do.” Ahsoka said it like an absolution. “It’s in your blood. It’s your birthright. Every creature in the world has the right to want to be free.” She smiled and reached out to brush Barriss’ hair off her neck. “You’re allowed. To want something just because you _want_ it. You’re allowed to go where you want to go, live by your own judgement. Do what feels right.”

Stop, Barriss tried to say, but it caught in her throat. Ahsoka’s words hurt, they hurt like a burning poker pressed against her stomach. She was going to die if this pirate didn’t _stop._

But she wanted her to keep going.

“That’s what it means, you know.” Ahsoka was sitting too close and not nearly close enough. “It’s not the ropes and the sails and the keel, those are details. Why do you think you’re drawn to the ocean? Look at me. Barriss. _Look_ at me.”

Her eyes were the color of the sea.

“I’ve seen you. You look at a well-made ship like she’s your lover. _That’s_ what it’s about. That’s what I mean when I say you have the heart of a sailor.” Ahsoka visibly swallowed. “Of a pirate. You love her for what she is. Not what she’s made of, not her workmanship, what she _is._ What a ship is, what the sea is. It’s _freedom._ You’re allowed to want it.”

I can’t, Barriss thought. There was an offer in Ahsoka’s eyes, in the tender way her thumb brushed over Barriss’ cheek, but… I can’t, it’s not that simple, don’t ask, I _can’t…_

Why?

Barriss was dizzy and breathless and the question chased itself around in her head. Why not? There was nothing stopping her except the knowledge that she wasn’t _supposed_ to…

“Some people are born with the sea in their blood,” Ahsoka murmured. “You don’t have to be afraid of that.”

Ahsoka didn’t move. Barriss was certain of that, later, and later it would be important. Ahsoka cupped her hand against Barriss’ neck but she didn’t pull her in, and she didn’t move. It was Barriss who gripped her collar and closed the gap.

* * *

She woke slowly the next morning.

There didn’t seem to be any rush. Barriss was aware of being comfortably warm, pleasantly sore; the sand under her wasn’t nearly as soft to lie on as it looked but it could be much worse.

She stretched and winced in the morning sunlight. Ahsoka chuckled; the movement jostled Barriss enough to make her look up.

The pirate grinned at her, eyes lazily half-lidded. “Morning, kitten.”

Try as she might, Barriss felt herself blushing.

Ahsoka laughed again, not unkindly. She wound her fingers in Barriss’ hair, tucking her back in place with her head resting against Ahsoka’s chest. Sleepy and shy, Barriss let her. It felt...nice, she decided with only a slight pang of guilt. The sun was warm and Ahsoka’s arm under her head was solid and reassuring. And there was something comforting about the quiet, rhythmic carding through her hair, being petted like the ship’s cat Ahsoka had named her for.

She hadn’t...realized it could be like that.

All her life...it wasn’t as if she didn’t know the basics, but there was only so much it was considered acceptable for a young lady to be aware of, and the whole thought had been a vaguely disturbing bit of academic knowledge most of the time. Occasionally, it became a source of visceral horror.

Like the predatory raider Ahsoka had rescued her from. But even outside of that extreme. She remembered vividly when she had been perhaps seventeen, one of her mother’s maids had made several insinuating comments about the kind of interest an officer down at the fort had in Barriss. The man had been easily in his mid-twenties, which everyone seemed to agree was not an unreasonable match. Barriss had excused herself to hyperventilate the first time she heard those rumors; she’d barely slept for a week and had been halfway through forming hazy plans to run away in the middle of the night and disguise herself as a boy on a fishing boat or merchant schooner by the time she finally broke down into her mother’s shoulder and confessed her horror at the idea.

Unnecessary dramatics, of course. The man’s interest had been real enough but never serious; her mother had very firmly put the notion out of his mind months before and been shocked that anyone even remembered it. Barriss had never been in any danger—but that terrible fear had never quite left her.

She’d never seen the gossipping maid again. This concerned her very little, if truth be told.

She hadn’t…

It had never occurred to her that the weight of another person over her could feel _good,_ that she could take pleasure in a pirate captain licking sea salt from her throat and murmuring praise and encouragement against her skin. That rope-calloused hands under her clothes could make her smile. Could feel nonthreatening, even _safe._

She didn’t realize she was nuzzling into Ahsoka’s neck until there was another soft laugh and fingernails scraped gently over her scalp.

“You might want to hold that thought, kitten,” she murmured. “I’m all for round two, but this isn’t the best time.”

Barriss lifted her head, bewildered. _What,_ she almost said, _do you have a pressing social engagement?_

Ahsoka gave a crooked smile. “Well, for one thing, I figured out why Anakin always hated beaches. I don’t know about you, but I’ve got sand in places I’d like to forget.” She winked as Barriss made a face. “Plus, we’re gonna have company soon. Unless you don’t mind putting on a show.”

“What?”

Ahsoka nodded over Barriss’ shoulder; when she pushed herself up on one elbow and peered out over the water she found white sails bobbing over the horizon.

“She showed up about an hour ago,” said Ahsoka.

Barriss stood up and made a doomed attempt to brush herself clean of sand. “Friends of yours…?”

“Could be.” Ahsoka squinted. “Rum runners have always used this place as a cache. If this is the _Resolute,_ by the way, I’m gonna laugh.”

Barriss was significantly less amused by that prospect. “Could it be?”

Ahsoka fished a spyglass out of her clothes. “Nah,” she reported. “Single-masted sloop. A bit of a mess, honestly. They should have men in the boats by now. And if you’re going for the flamboyant scarlet paint job you need to keep it fresh.”

“Well,” Barriss pointed out. “What do you expect from rum smugglers?”

“Common misconception,” Ahsoka said absently. “A good smuggler is one who looks legitimate, that way they don’t raise suspicions. Whoever this is—hang on, I think I can almost make out a name.”

There was a long pause while she looked through the spyglass. Then, abruptly, she snapped it closed.

“You know,” she said. “This place isn’t actually that bad, why don’t we just stay.”

“...We have two days’ worth of water,” Barriss pointed out.

“Someone else might show up!” Ahsoka’s voice was high and inexplicably desperate.

“They’re dangerous?” She’d gotten so used to Ahsoka’s brand of pirate...Barriss was intensely glad she’d kept hold of that sword.

“No. Yes? Kind of. Not really. It’s just…” Ahsoka heaved a sigh. “You think we have time to find that cache before the rowboats get here?”

Barriss was mystified. “Why?”

“Because,” Ahsoka said grimly. “I refuse to do this sober.”

* * *

 _“Ahsoka!”_ exclaimed Hondo.

Trying to pass her grimace off as a smile, Ahsoka vaulted over the rail and onto _Florrum’s_ deck. “Morning, Hondo.”

He gripped her by the shoulders in an exaggerated, friendly manner. “Come, come!” he said. “So many years. You never visit, you never write. It is _almost_ as if you didn’t like me. And now, here you are, all alone on, ah.” He sniffed. “One of my many centers of legitimate business. The Princess of the Dead Sea herself, come all this way, _just_ to speak to her old friend Hondo!”

“No,” Ahsoka assured him. “Trust me. This was an accident.”

“Haha!” He patted her shoulder again. “Of course. Now. Tell me what it is that Hondo can do for you. For of course only a _very_ modest fee and cut of any profits in the service of such a valued customer—friend. And...ah.” He gave a dramatic bow as Barriss climbed onto the deck. “Your lovely companion, of course—”

Instinctively, Ahsoka reached out and tugged Barriss closer to her side. She barely trusted Steela’s people. _Hondo’s_ she trusted about as far as she could throw the _Fulcrum._

“Is _under my protection,_ Hondo, and I’m sure your crew will remember that.”

“Of course! Of course, of course. Now. What is it you are looking for?” He spread his hands. “A search for treasure, perhaps...a blockade that needs running, though I hope you realize I charge triple for that now. Or am I correct in thinking perhaps you might be needing passage to the nearest friendly port, in exchange for a _small_ favor or two to your trustworthy and reliable rescuer.”

“Neither.” Sometimes, a girl had to rely on instinct. Ahsoka unwound the linen strip from her right hand before she could think better of it. “There’s something you need to know.”

For possibly the first time in her life, Hondo Ohnaka was utterly speechless.

Naturally, it didn’t last long.

“...Well!” he decided after a moment. “You have certainly been busy.” He slung an arm around her shoulder and gave a deep sigh. “Ah, Ahsoka. Ahsoka, Ahsoka, Ahsoka. Get _off_ my ship.”

“Sorry?”

“Go!” He flailed his arms, faded blood-red overcoat flapping like a very sad sort of bird. “Get—off—my ship! I do _not_ tangle with the Ferryman, and I most _definitely_ do not bring the Black Spot onto—”

“Wait!” Ahsoka ducked out from under his arm. “Hondo, listen, this is about a lot more than just me!”

“That is true!” he agreed. “This is about _Hondo Ohnaka!_ Which is,” he added as a polite aside to Barriss, “clearly, much more important.”

_“The Company has the heart, Hondo!”_

Hondo, who had been halfway through storming off across the deck, froze.

Ahsoka’s heart hammered against her ribs. She was running out of time. “The East India Company,” she repeated, more evenly. “They have it. Hondo, that thing will kill or enslave us all. We have to try. I need you to be a pirate lord today or it’s all over. You can help me or you can kneel to Palpatine and the EITC, because if we don’t stop it _now_ there won’t be another option.”

After a long pause, Hondo turned on his heel.

 _“Stop it,”_ he repeated, and sighed. “Ahsoka…”

“Think of it this way,” she said. “If I fail, you’ll still have time to get to land and stay there for the rest of your life.”

Hondo’s eyes flickered.

* * *

Cannons thundered off the coast.

Ahsoka grit her teeth, tried to control her trembling hands as she rowed toward the friendly sight of land. The stench of a hundred thousand rotting corpses still lingered in her nose and throat. Barriss, shaking across from her, didn’t look much better.

She could have brought one of Hondo’s men. Should have brought one of them. But she needed someone for this with steady hands and a steel heart. Someone who wouldn’t lose their head or panic. And there was only one person on the _Florrum_ that Ahsoka trusted.

This wasn’t fair to her, but they didn’t have a choice. The East India Trading Company could not be allowed to command the Kraken.

A terrible, unearthly shriek rose from the blue.

“Maybe they’ll kill it,” Barriss whispered. “And none of this will be necessary.”

Ahsoka smiled at her.

A dozen man-of-wars couldn’t kill the Kraken. Not that it was impossible; the beast could die. Anything else went against the nature of the sea. The curse wasn’t that the Kraken could not be killed. It was that no power men possessed could kill it. It made your death worse, more terrifying, if you knew you _could_ fight and it simply did no good.

Hondo’s little sloop didn’t have a prayer. All he could do was slow it down to give them their chance.

They said the Kraken didn’t go into the shallows. That was true, for the most part. But anywhere a ship could go, so too could the Kraken, and it _would_ pursue its prey into shallower water...if it was angry enough.

“I won’t be able to stop,” Ahsoka warned her companion. “Jump and catch the vines. And don’t fall off.”

Barriss gave a tight nod. Her normally copper-brown skin had a sick, ashen hue.

Out on the open sea there was another hellish scream as, in a masterful display of gunnery instincts, Hondo managed to catch a long algae-covered tentacle in the crossfire between two of his own cannons, twisted at diagonals by the battle. It was blown clean off at the base, and the Kraken retreated below the waves.

This was it.

Against her better judgement, Ahsoka paused her frantic hauling at the oars to lean in and press a hard kiss to Barriss’ jaw.

“Go,” she said as they drew even with the cliffs. Barriss half-rose; then, without having to be told, she pushed off the center of the rowboat’s seat and grasped the thick vines cascading down the cliff face. She clung there a moment, then adjusted her grip and started to climb.

 _Get clear,_ Ahsoka thought in her direction. That was the last thought she was able to spare; the current of the incoming tide pushed her through. It was all she could do to keep the precious barrels she’d tied around the little lifeboat from cracking against the rocks.

And then she was safe, for a given value of the word.

Shipkiller Cove. Not to be confused with Shipwreck Cove or Shipsbone Bay, both of which were distinct entities from the Island of Bones and the Ship’s Graveyard.

Pirates, Ahsoka acknowledged, were simple creatures. They called it like it was.

Once she was through the narrow entrance to the cove the current abated, leaving her bobbing quietly in the center of the deep blue water.

For now.

Her own breathing was harsh against the silence.

Then, just for a moment, hurtling impossibly fast beneath the waves, something moved near the entrance. Something mottled-grey and too big, displacing the water above it—and then it was gone.

She didn’t dare look over the side. It wouldn’t do any good. This was it, no more running. No more fights. Hondo had done everything he could. Now the Kraken was wounded and furious. And Ahsoka was alone in a fishbowl with it.

Trying to get her ragged breathing under control, Ahsoka picked up the precious oil lamp she’d brought along. She tried to time her breaths to the flickering light, and prayed Barriss was clear of the cliffs by now.

The lifeboat shuddered as it ran aground.

Ahsoka tasted bile.

No more running, she thought to herself as if it would bring her comfort. As if she hadn’t been running for a hundred years, as if she wouldn’t sell her soul for a death that wasn’t this one.

“I wouldn’t,” she said out loud. That was a dangerous thought to have. “I won’t.”

The attack on _Florrum_ had been swift and aggressive. Now, the Kraken had its prey cornered, and it could afford to take its time. Ahsoka knew she would panic if she turned to look; but its breath choked her, and its body blotted out the sun as it gripped her flimsy little boat from below and drew it back toward its dripping teeth.

Ahsoka took a moment to fix the image of the EITC brand in her mind.

“You don’t get to win like this,” she told it.

The Kraken’s teeth began to close around her. She dropped the oil lamp.

She’d been afraid of what being eaten would feel like; but the fear had been wasted. She never had to worry about feeling it. The kerosene-soaked fuses for the dozen-and-change barrels of gunpowder strapped to the sides of her rowboat did their work before the Kraken could touch her.

High above her, cued by the explosion, Barriss Offee lit a fuse of her own.

* * *

Ahsoka had been right, she thought dully.

“A few barrels of gunpowder won’t do it,” she’d said, pacing belowdecks on the Florrum while they ran for Shipkiller. “But they might slow it down. We just have to...hope.”

So that was what Barriss had been armed with. A tinder box and hope.

Nothing man could produce was capable of killing the Kraken, Ahsoka had said. But the sea...the sea itself, its rage turned inward? If they could harness it, _that_ might be enough.

It wasn’t as if Shipkiller Cove was hurting for debris they could use to even the odds a bit. Every ship that found the beautiful secret harbor thought they were the first, and they had all met the same fate. But even if Ahsoka had time—and she hadn’t, they’d been attacked almost before they got here—no ship could possibly haul all of that heavy debris up from the bottom of the ocean.

No ship except the _Twilight._

It had been their only hope; and Ahsoka had known, the grief written on her face, that if Anakin Skywalker was able to defy his masters this one final time, there would never be another. There had been no guarantee that he would even be able to slip from his shackles long enough to rig the trap—but Ahsoka had never doubted.

“He’ll do it,” she’d insisted. “The fuses will be there.”

She had believed it. And so, Barriss had believed it.

And when that one terrible explosion ripped through the monster’s body, Barriss did as she’d been told. She lit the cluster of fuses left weighted by a rock outside the blast area, and a long series of explosions raced along the inside edge of the cliff face surrounding the cove. The rock fell away in jagged chunks—and more important than that, it dragged with it splintered trees and pieces of mast, many linked by anchor chain. Even cannons and chain shot,toppling into the abyss.

Something else had happened, while the Kraken circled its prey.

At Shipkiller Cove, the tide was coming in.

It was very much like Ahsoka had described. Slow, at first; then suddenly it reached a tipping point, and the entryway began to roar. It was whitewater, howling with the rage of the sea at being confined. Even the Kraken couldn’t swim against that current, the weight of all that water; and it was slammed against the rocks when it tried.

The detritus freed by the cliffside explosion was swept up by the frothing waves, and even the Kraken seemed to realize it was over. It was...brutal, to watch. Even with the horror the beast had instilled in her, Barriss’ heart ached to see it writhe under the bludgeoning of the water and the rocks. The snapped-off pieces of tree trunk and mast, in the end, were what spelled its doom; they pierced its hide like lances, and Barriss turned away as the water began to go opaque with sand and foam and blood.

It would be over, soon, once the tide had come in properly. The cove was only deadly during the transition. When the surge was done, it would show the Kraken, once the most feared and deadly creature in the sea, floating sad and ruined on the surface.

But it had taken Ahsoka with it.


	3. Flash of Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are BACK. A combination of finals, graduation, and trying to handle job applications made me go quiet for a while, but here I am. This chapter fought me tooth and nail, but the plot continues to move forward—and now everything is set up for the Brethren Court, which I'm SUPER excited to get to write! 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this.

  
“Hey,” said a familiar voice. “You okay?”

Barriss looked up and tried to force a smile. Judging by the look on Katooni’s face, she failed.

She’d wondered, when she first met the girl, why Hondo would make a fourteen-year-old his first mate. Admittedly, given the quality and negotiable loyalties of the rest of his crew... still. Katooni was just a child, however clever and capable she might be.

It was _cute,_ seeing her striding with her arms crossed in Hondo’s wake, though Barriss was reasonably certain the girl would shoot her if she voiced that thought. Katooni, she had to acknowledge, was more useful on a ship than Barriss was, ducking and weaving through the rigging and dancing across beams with total confidence in her footing and absolutely no concept of her own mortality. She dressed like a cabin boy except for the leather coat brushing at her heels, the style placing practical toughness over Hondo’s flash.

She resembled nothing quite so much as a younger and less traumatized version of Ahsoka.

Barriss reminded herself firmly, as Katooni jumped up onto a barrel next to her, that it was stupid to get choked up by that thought. She’d known Ahsoka Tano barely a few weeks.

“I don’t know anyone who’s ever gotten that close to the Kraken,” Katooni offered. “I always thought it was just a story.”

“I thought a lot of things were just stories,” Barriss said softly.

Cautiously, Katooni patted her shoulder.

“It worked,” she said. “Ahsoka bought us time. Without the Kraken we can make it, I know we can.”

Barriss wanted to respond, but she was...tired. And feeling very, very alone.

Katooni’s expression softened into transparent pity. She squeezed Barriss’ arm. If she was going to say something else, it was interrupted by an awkward cough from the ladder.

Hondo cleared his throat again as he made his way over. “Katooni!” he said with his trademark ease. “So this is where you vanished to. I thought one of the men had _finally_ gotten you off my ship.”

“Hasn’t worked for the last dozen,” she retorted smugly. Hondo hummed in reluctant agreement.

“One of these days,” he promised her. Katooni smirked.

The girl, Barriss had gathered over the past few days, hadn’t actually been invited onto the crew. She’d just sort of shown up, and had become Hondo’s right hand quite against his will. Normally, it would have made her smile.

Katooni hopped off her barrel as her captain approached, scrambling up onto a stack of crates nearby instead. Hondo sat down at Barriss’ side with a long exhale. She fought down the urge to cough; being in Hondo Ohnaka’s personal space gave one a whole new understanding of the phrase “rum-soaked” and the value of soap.

“Well, now, Miss Offee,” he sighed. “The two of us are in a situation, it would seem.”

“Are we?”

“Mmm.” Hondo scratched the back of his head. “Ahsoka was a good friend of mine. I think. And getting rid of that creature, well! That is exactly the kind of thing she would do. But I do not think it will be enough, I’m afraid.”

Katooni frowned. “Wha’d’you mean? The Kraken’s dead, isn’t it? What, are there more?”

Hondo’s eyes went wide. “I should hope _not!”_ he exclaimed. _“Child!_ Don’t _say_ things like that!”

For once, Katooni looked sheepish. “Sorry, Captain!”

Hondo shuddered. _“Absolutely_ not,” he said. “But you understand, Barriss—I can call you Barriss, yes?—the Kraken...is not what worries me.”

Barriss had read too many stories—only most of them with her mother’s indulgent permission—not to be paranoid at being this close to a “real” pirate obviously trying to build up to something. As subtly as possible, she shifted her weight on the barrel and moved her dominant hand to a position that would let her draw her sword faster.

“What’s that?” she asked calmly.

Hondo chuckled. “If it would make you feel better, by all means, draw your sword, my friend. Hondo will not be offended. Now.” The brief sparkle in his eyes faded as he rested his hands on his knees and looked over at her. Barriss recognized the uncharacteristically serious expression and paid attention in spite of herself.

“Tell me, Miss Offee,” he said quietly. “Have you ever _seen_ the _Twilight?”_

Barriss swallowed, remembering the storm. The spectral ship, black hull against the blacker waves, almost invisible in the night. That brief flare of eerie light. She’d felt like she was...intruding. Rex knew she was only just on the right side of useless on a ship, and he’d wanted someone to keep watch in case anything went wrong, but...she’d felt for a moment that there would have to be some kind of retribution, for witnessing what a mortal was never meant to see.

Hondo gave a low hum at her expression. “Aaah. Yes, so have I. When you sail the seas your whole life…” He shrugged. “Most pirates have seen her at her work. Some deny it. It’s easier sometimes to pretend you don’t believe she exists. We are _not_ the kind of people who generally like to, ah.” He sniffed. “Think too deeply about the state of our immortal souls?”

Barriss refused to laugh at such a tasteless joke. She just happened to be struck by a sudden, violent coughing fit at that exact moment, that was all.

“However.” Hondo placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, gesturing in front of them with the air of a magician, as if showing Barriss a magnificent vista instead of probably giving her lice. “Some of us have seen _more_ than just the work. Very rarely, you understand. But…” He gave a deep, contented sigh. “Ah, _Skywalker._ I am telling you, Miss Offee, it is my greatest privilege to have seen that man handle a ship in combat.”

“He’s supposed to be incredible,” she acknowledged.

“Incredible!” Hondo threw his hands in the air. _“Hondo Ohnaka_ is incredible. Anakin Skywalker is _poetry._ And that is very bad for us. If Skywalker has truly been tamed…”

“I mean,” said Katooni, doubtfully. “I guess _maybe_ we could take the _Twilight_ …”

“Not on our own,” said Hondo.

Katooni’s eyes widened.

“You mean—but you said you’d never do it again!”

“Too right!” cried Hondo. “If there is one thing a pirate knows to avoid, it is! Other! Pirates! We are _terrible!_ Corrupt and selfish and violent, and with _no_ regard for personal property or hygiene _._ But with Skywalker and his ship enslaved by the East India Trading...this name,” he offered Barriss as an aside. “It is entirely too long. I _think_ they are compensating for something. But if they command the _Twilight,_ we have no choice.”

Katooni wore an ear-splitting grin. “So we’re gonna do it?” she said. “We’re summoning the Court?”

Barriss blinked. The Brethren Court was real as well, then. She’d known the first Court had been a genuine historical event, but common wisdom held that the Brethren couldn’t possibly still exist as an institution.

Hondo groaned. “So we must,” he said. “But I intend to complain the _entire_ time. And you, small child I did not hire and yet still pay for some reason! Your job is to make sure I _always_ have a full bottle of rum. Is that understood.”

“Yes, Hondo.” Katooni rolled her eyes.

Hondo grumbled under his breath for a moment before heaving yet another dramatic sigh and settling back against the hull.

“Well, then,” he said. “That still leaves us with a problem. The Court will gather, but they will not vote without every pirate lord present. And if no decisions can be made, we might as well not call the Brethren at all. Which,” he added, “I would prefer. However, at the moment I prefer not dying _slightly_ more.”

“We need Ahsoka,” Katooni agreed.

Barriss tried to smile. “Well,” she said, as gently as she could. “I suppose someone else will just have to step up.”

Hondo cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Ah,” he said. “Yes. Well. Actually, she is correct. If we are going to, against _all_ of my better judgement and ignoring my explicit warnings—”

“It was your idea,” said Katooni.

“—convene the Brethren Court, we _will_ be needing all of them.”

Barriss frowned.

“Hondo,” she said. “Ahsoka’s...gone.”

Hondo coughed again, laughing almost nervously as he waved a noncommittal hand through the air.

“Come now, Barriss,” he said in what was probably supposed to be a careless, jovial tone. “I hope by now you realize that the ferryman exists?”

“Of course,” she said, not certain where he was going with this.

“Well!” Hondo gestured as if she’d just solved the problem. “If the _Twilight_ ferries souls to the land of the dead, then, one would think, there is a land of the dead to take them to!”

“Well,” Barriss acknowledged. “I suppose, if you put it that way…”

“Wonderful!” Hondo clapped her on the back. “Now, if the land of the dead exists, why, you can travel to it! As long as, well, you know where it is. Of course. That _would_ make things difficult. Luckily, there is a fabled set of charts that show the route to the Locker, and who better to carry them than _Hondo Ohnaka!”_

“Anyone?” suggested Barriss. Hondo laughed uproariously.

“Anyone!” he exclaimed. “I like this one! Yes, well. I will admit, they are actually. Ahem. Ahsoka’s. But the important thing is that we _have_ them, at our disposal, to mount a daring rescue! Yes?”

Barriss’ eyes narrowed. “Yes,” she said. “How _did_ that happen?”

Hondo suddenly found many interesting things around the cargo hold to glance at, none of them in Barriss’ direction. “Ah, well,” he said. “That, ah, that is a very long story involving.” He cleared his throat. “A great many thrilling heroics, you understand. Swashbuckling adventures, that sort of—”

“You stole them,” she guessed.

“Well, _yes,_ obviously. I fail to see what that has to do with anything. I ask you, what is a priceless supernatural artifact between friends?”

Barriss and Katooni rolled their eyes in unison.

“All right,” said Barriss, deciding it wasn’t worth arguing with him. “So...we’re going to the land of the dead, then? To...retrieve Ahsoka, somehow?”

To her surprise, Hondo burst out laughing.

 _“Going to the land of the dead!”_ he wheezed, pounding his hand against the barrels. “With this—! Us! Aaaah.” He wiped tears from his eyes. “You made a joke! That was very funny.”

“I wasn’t…”

“No, no no no.” Hondo, still chuckling, didn’t seem to hear her. “ _Far_ too dangerous. Besides.” He straightened his coat. “Someone will need to tell the Court what we know, in the _very_ likely event that you are never seen again. Now.” He stood and snapped his fingers. “Katooni will take you to the charts. And I, magnanimous as you know I am, shall arrange a gift—a _small loan,”_ he corrected hastily. “To allow you to hire a _different_ ship that I am much less concerned about losing. Because I will not be on it! Haha!”

He spread his arms with a winning smile.

Katooni patted Barriss’ shoulder pityingly and said, “I’ll go find you those charts.”

* * *

Barriss swallowed nervously.

Hera Syndulla did not look impressed. The Frenchwoman sat across the table from her, arms crossed. She wore a practical leather vest over undyed cotton, a canvas wrap holding back twin braids like an afterthought, and a glare that could probably set a ship on fire.

“Excuse me?” she said. Her voice was flat.

 Barriss took a deep breath.

“I need to commission your ship for an expedition to the land of the dead in order to rescue Anakin Skywalker’s sister so that she can convince the Brethren Court to take action against the East India Trading Company, who have taken command of the ghost ship _Twilight_ by force.”

“Oh, I heard you,” Hera said drily. “You don’t want much, do you?”

Her first mate snorted. “Don’t work up to it so gently next time. Just come out and say it.”

Barriss ignored the dig. “I was given your name by…”

Hera gave a mirthless laugh. “I _know_ who gave you my name, and I might just kill him. That’s not much of a recommendation...Barriss, was it?”

Barriss hesitated. Hondo had said, the captain of the _Ghost_ was...well, the word he’d used was “intense,” which was wholly accurate. But honorable, as well.

“Please,” she said. “Everything depends on it.”

Hera sighed.

“What’s Hondo paying?” she asked. She still radiated skepticism, and Barriss tried not to visibly swallow as she reached down and pulled a small satchel out from under her chair. She placed it on the table and pushed it across, anxiety knotting in her stomach.

Hera glanced at the first mate—Kanan, Barriss was reasonably sure. The man was already shaking his head.

“For a _real_ job,” he said cuttingly, “that’d almost be fair. For Hondo, at least.” Hera snorted. “But that wouldn’t even cover provisions for a wild goose chase.”

His captain tilted her head toward him in agreement, but didn’t reject the offering yet.

One of Hera’s crew—a young woman with amber eyes and a short, severe haircut—cleared her throat.

“Uh,” she said. “If nobody minds me stating the obvious, I’m pretty sure Anakin Skywalker’s, you know...a _myth?”_

Hera sighed and shook her head. “I’ve only seen the _Twilight_ once,” she said. “And that was from a distance. But she exists. The problem is, that’s not enough to convince me to send my crew on a suicide mission,” she informed Barriss, but her voice was almost kind; her piercing green eyes had softened slightly. “But it’d be more than enough to cover a ride home.”

“Your mother’s worried about you.” That was their young cabin boy, the statement earnest and concerned. “That is you, right? Um...Barriss Offee? We recognized you from your ransom offer.”

Barriss’ fingers clenched around the strap of the chart case slung across her back.

The unexpected mention of her mother was a sword in her gut. She must be frantic, Barriss thought guiltily. It wasn’t as if—she certainly hadn’t _planned_ any of this! Everything had just moved so fast...Ahsoka would have taken her back to Port Royal soon enough. But…

She’d seen too much to be able to bear returning to the life she’d had. That wouldn’t keep her away; her mother loved her, would support Barriss whatever she decided to do. And after everything, the need to see her mother again was almost overwhelming. She’d never needed a hug more in her life. And there was nothing stopping her from returning home and letting the pirates sort their own problems.

But she would always wonder. And time was running out.

“This has to be done,” she said. Hera’s eyebrows lifted, and Barriss pressed to take advantage of her brief surprise. “It’s _your_ world that’s at stake, your freedom that will be forfeit if—”

“Whoa, there.” Hera leaned forward, anger flashing briefly in her eyes. “We’re not _pirates,_ thank you. The _Ghost_ is an honest smuggling ship.”

Kanan chuckled, and she shot him a look before looking back at Barriss.

“I’ll be honest with you,” she said. “I don’t actually _like_ pirates. I’m not above bending the law a bit, but I don’t set out to _kill_ anyone for my cargo. Can’t say I like the EITC any better, mind you, but I won’t shed many tears for murderers and thieves either.”

“We’re thieves, Hera,” Kanan pointed out.

Hera’s lips twitched. “Murderers then.” 

“Eh…” Sabine wiggled her hand doubtfully.

“I’m not asking you to approve of piracy,” Barriss said. “I don’t myself. This is about a lot more than that. The East India Trading Company didn’t kidnap two law-abiding citizens whose only crime was that their mother was Anakin Skywalker’s wife, and hold them hostage to force the the Ferryman of the Dead to hand over his immortal heart in a chest and enslave himself to their command, because they care about the safety of average merchants!”

The crew blanched; Kanan and Hera didn’t seem surprised, but the captain was still visibly disgusted.

“I take it they’re doing more than forcing the _Twilight_ to stop attacking Company ships,” Hera said after a moment.

“They’re trying to prevent the ferryman from doing his job,” Barriss told her. “He went behind their backs for a while, he tried to keep up as long as he could, but they’ve been tightening their hold.”

Kanan looked disturbed. “If there’s no one acting as the ferryman, anyone who dies at sea…”

“Lost,” Hera said, without looking to Barriss for confirmation. “Trapped and unable to move on, forever.” She gave a tight smile. “I doubt the Company cares. None of _them_ would put themselves in danger.”

“They wanted control of the Kraken,” Barriss added. “They were able to force Skywalker to pass the Black Spot to his own sister. If they can do that, they can force him to do anything.”

 _“They—!”_ Kanan’s outburst drew curious glances, and Hera quickly hissed him quiet. He bit his tongue and lowered his voice. “They tried to set the _Kraken_ on the Princess of the Dead Sea?”

“Not tried.” Barriss swallowed and was able to keep her voice steady as she continued, “She sacrificed herself to kill it and buy us time.”

Silence hung over the table like a thunderhead.

“Don’t you see?” Barriss had planned this conversation, but none of her calm, logical points and bargaining tactics seemed relevant anymore. She didn’t even know where any of this was coming from, only that she couldn’t ignore it. “They will stop at nothing but total dominion. Yes, today they may focus on eliminating pirate threats. But tomorrow they will be hunting down the smugglers that threaten their business interests.”

“We’ve always managed before.” Hera didn’t sound at all convinced. “Anakin Skywalker’s not the only one with a few tricks up his sleeves. If it gets bad enough, we can always take the _Ghost_ and go legitimate.”

Barriss shook her head. “I know the people making these decisions, Captain. I lived with them, I ate in their homes and listened to them brag to one another. And they will _not_ stop. Merchant sailors are assets to them, not people. Once they have eliminated the most obvious threats? They _will_ turn to eliminating the independent merchant trade.”

Hera’s eyes closed in defeat.

“Of course they will,” she agreed after a moment. “There’s no reason not to. EITC ships will be safe, and independent ships will mysteriously disappear every day. Those scum never did see something they didn’t want to take by force.”

Barriss said quietly, “And you don’t like pirates.”

Hera’s eyes snapped up to meet hers, and there was a sharp, focused consideration on her face that hadn’t been there before.

“So…” The boy glanced between them. “How is us getting this girl back supposed to help? I didn’t say we would do it!” he added defensively as Hera glared at him. “I’m just _asking.”_

“The Court can’t convene without all of its members,” said Barriss. “And Ahsoka is the only member of the Court who can’t name her own successor, which means they can’t convene without her. If they don’t act _now,_ together, to find a way to free or stop Skywalker before the Company can consolidate its power, there will never be another free ship on the sea. For any of us.”

There was a pause.

“Well, I think we should do it,” the boy said firmly. “I mean...everyone who dies at sea having their soul trapped forever? That’s a _lot_ of innocent people.”

Hera stood, bracing herself against the table for several long minutes as she thought. Finally, she reached out and pulled Hondo’s satchel over her shoulder.

“We’re in the middle of a resupply,” she informed Barriss. “I’ll rush my people, but we can’t leave before tomorrow evening. Best I can do.”

“That’s fine,” Barriss said quickly. “Thank you.”

Kanan sighed as they shook hands. 

 _“And_ tomorrow’s Friday,” he said. _“Fantastic.”_

* * *

The _Ghost,_ Barriss had found, was a beautiful little ship.

She was deceptively unimpressive to look at; an old, undersized corvette, with blue, gold, and scarlet accents along her hull that might once have been bold but were worn dull with age. But the rest of her was well enough maintained to be almost new, and Hera’s crew knew their ship inside and out. There was nothing, Barriss thought, that they couldn’t coax this little merchant freighter into doing.

That was lucky, because as well-built and expertly maintained as the _Ghost_ might be, it hadn’t been designed for this.

The ship moaned, heeling dramatically toward the dark water. Cold, blue-white waves reared up around them, challenging the mast, blocking the horizon. The entire ship shuddered as she rushed toward the base of a monster wave. For a terrifying heartbeat it looked as if they’d plow into it and be swallowed whole; then the bow leapt toward the sky and brought the _Ghost_ racing up the hill—somehow, alive.

And then they crested the wave and dove once more into a dark valley of water.

Every few seconds Barriss was certain their luck was about to run out; every time, the little ship proved her wrong. There was a wild joy in it, an exhilaration nothing could match.

It was also the most terrifying thing she had ever experienced.

Barriss braced herself against the tied-down crate she was using as a table as they bodyslammed another massive rolling wave and sent a wall of ice-cold water across the deck. She was beginning to understand why the mysterious charts Hondo had given her were carved from bound strips of wood. Paper would have disintegrated long ago.

Not that the charts were doing her much more good than a handful of pulp at the moment anyway.

Stumbling slightly as another wave battered the poor ship, Sabine Wren approached and gripped Barriss’ crate. From what Barriss could tell, the young woman had something of a sixth sense for timing broadsides and coordinating cannonfire, as well as her captain’s navigational instincts. The latter seemed to be causing her a bit of distress.

“Uh,” said Sabine, raising her voice over the roar of the wind and the surging waves. “Not to rush you or anything…”

 _“Where the hell are we?!”_ came a shout from above them, and Barriss winced.

“Zeb” was the least convinced of anyone onboard that this voyage would amount to anything, and he’d been more unsettled than any of them by the way the ship’s compasses had begun to malfunction as familiar star patterns disappeared, by how quickly they’d begun running into ice and windstorms that should have been much further than a few weeks’ sailing from the Caribbean.

He was also...well, large. Barriss knew enough about the world not to hold the scars of punitive whiplashes standing out from his pale skin too much against him without context—a harsh captain could come up with a million and one ways to justify a flogging, her mother had reminded her as a child. And Zeb was a skilled, sober, and responsible sailor who either hadn’t deserved them or had more than learned his lesson. But he was built like a warhorse, all rippling muscle and dark beard, and she couldn’t help but be a little intimidated by him. Normally, at least. With the ocean trying to kill them at the moment, he seemed much less frightening.

“I’m not certain!” she shouted back. Then, hastily, “That’s a good thing!”

“How is that a _good thing?!”_

“If we know where we are, we can’t be in a place that’s impossible to find!”

“GOOD.” Barriss winced at the entirely justifiable anger in Hera’s voice as she shouted from the helm. “‘CAUSE WE’RE _LOST!”_

“As best I can tell...” Barriss called back, and then stumbled as another sheet of icewater slammed across the deck. The _Ghost,_ finally wrenched past her limits, had struck the next wave at too sharp an angle and twisted, almost as if she were trying to shoulder-check the behemoth out of her way. The impact rattled Captain Syndulla’s little merchant vessel to her bones.

Darkly, the sound ringing out even over the roar of the sea and the howling wind, something deep inside the ship _cracked._

Barriss froze, a chill washing through her that had nothing to do with the ocean; but the _Ghost_ managed to creak and shudder its way upright. For a moment, Barriss could almost breathe.

_“Hera?!”_

Everyone’s heads snapped up at the barely-contained panic in Ezra’s voice, and Barriss heard Kanan swear behind her.

The freak wave was easily twice the height of the monsters they were already battling, and Barriss’ mind went blank. Something that big couldn’t _exist._ Certainly it couldn’t be survived.The ocean itself was rearing up with malice, already beginning to buckle under its own impossible weight. And the _Ghost_ was sliding toward it almost sideways. If that monster rolled them, they were all going to die.

And without the Ferryman, it would be a long, cold eternity.

Hera’s voice cut through the storm with practiced skill as she called orders to her crew. Barriss, worse than useless as a navigator under these conditions, shoved the charts up her sleeve and jumped to obey on reflex. Whatever it was that gave Ahsoka her magnetic influence, she thought through the fog of terror, Hera had it in her as well.

The wave rolled toward them as if in slow motion. At the helm, Hera muttered prayers and pleading encouragement to her wounded ship as the _Ghost,_ its crew frantically trying to adjust course, fell toward its death.

For too many long seconds, their efforts seemed in vain. And then, just as seemingly the entire ocean rose up before them to block out the sun, the _Ghost_ lurched drunkenly to starboard. It was an awkward, tortured maneuver; but they managed to strike the wave, not suicidally head-on, but at an acute enough angle that the ship was able to shudder and cling to the side of the mountain rather than be consumed by it.

Barriss gripped a shroud as the rogue wave passed beneath them, bracing for the world to drop out from under them. And then, like blowing out a candle, the howling wind...stopped.

She waited for a long time before blinking and gingerly leaning over the bulwark to try to figure out what was going on.

The ocean stretched to the horizon around them, flat as a mirror.

“Okay,” Kanan declared from behind her. “That’s weird.”

Barriss stood on her tiptoes, was still unable to see what he was looking at, then gave up and crossed to his side. The polished obsidian of the glass ocean was only ahead; just aft of the _Ghost,_ frozen in time, the steel-grey apex of the rogue wave broke through the smooth surface, dropping down a dizzying height to the ice-cold ocean.

“What’re you guys looking at—oh, wow.” Ezra paused for a long moment as the crew silently took in the eerie sight. Still, he recovered faster than any of them, and his voice was smug as he added, “See, Kanan? Told you it was a real map.”

Kanan snorted. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

Hera gave a mirthless laugh and shook her head. “Sabine,” she ordered. “The _Ghost’s_ hurt pretty bad. Get below with Chopper and see if you can get me a damage report.” Barriss privately doubted whether Hera’s squat, misanthropic quartermaster was going to be much help, but she kept that opinion to herself as the captain’s instructions continued. With the space to breathe, Hera’s voice was regaining some of its humor. “Everyone else, let’s get some canvas out.”

“At least we know we’re _definitely_ going the right way,” Ezra pointed out.

“And not remotely getting paid enough for it,” Sabine added under her breath before half-jumping down an open hatch.

“Aw, c’mon, Sabine!” Ezra grinned at his older sister as he followed her. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Sabine’s indignant response was lost as Barriss pulled the Ferryman’s charts out of her sleeve and shook them dry, setting them out on her crate again.

“Ah,” she said out loud after a moment, tapping the figure of a dual-toned wave, marked with nothing but a few smudged lines of warning text. _Those who seek Death will here succeed; or fail the test, and it find thee._ Which was, she thought testily, both deliberately unhelpful and demonstrative of a total lack of any attempt at writing decent poetry. The immortal ferryman of the dead ought to have enough time on his hands to do the thing properly. “I _thought_ that might make more sense after the fact.”

“That’s great to hear,” said Hera. Her voice was dry, but she smiled as Barriss glanced over. Hera jerked her head in a friendly manner, tapping her free hand against the wheel. “Take the helm for a bit. Sabine and Chopper are being way too quiet down there.”

Barriss couldn’t help a quiet laugh at that, and she took just a moment to look over the charts again before slipping them back inside her borrowed jacket.

Beyond the icon of the wave, there was...well, it honestly looked as if the bamboo strips had been accidentally burned. Except for the unmarred words, standing out in bold script: _The Gulf of Worlds._

She took a deep breath and took over from Hera.

The _Ghost’s_ captain took her ship back several hours later, or what passed for several hours. The sails were filled, a steady breeze carrying them over the water; but its surface remained smooth, unrippled even by the _Ghost’s_ passage. The pale sun, hiding behind layers of thick grey clouds, never moved; but after a long time, Barriss suddenly realized how dark it was becoming.

The sun never set, and no stars appeared. Slowly, the light simply began to fade from their surroundings. After an hour Hera gave the quiet order to light their lamps. After three hours, the darkness was so thick even those were blotted out.

After another hour, all too quickly, they began to hear the sound of roaring water in the distance.

And then, almost exactly twenty-four hours by Chopper’s clock after they had been spared the drop into a rogue wave’s trough that Barriss had braced for, the _Ghost_ finally began to fall.

* * *

Ahsoka was a little concerned that she was going to run out of rocks.

This wasn’t really a problem she’d ever seen herself having, to be honest. Running out of rocks. She could admit that wasn’t something she had ever worried about before.

Still. There wasn’t much to do in the Locker, on a desert island, except throw rocks into what passed for the sea here. So she’d been doing that for a while. If it kept up for eternity, eventually she’d have to run out, right?

Lying on her back on the stony beach like this, bare feet resting just over the high-tide line, should have felt...well. It should have felt. There should have been salt in the air, on her tongue. Water—cold, or warm, _something —_ should have been lapping at her feet. She even missed having sand in strange places.

Ahsoka licked her lips. Nothing. As per usual. God, she was thirsty, but mostly as a thought. She didn’t really feel anything, just...she was aware of how long it had been since she had a drink of cool water. Or passed a bottle of something stronger back and forth with her brother, Rex, one of her boys…

Out of habit, she propped herself up on her elbows and watched a wave rush up on the shore. She could see the water swirling over her ankles; but she couldn’t feel a thing. When the wave receded, her feet were bone dry.

She sighed, picked up a rock, and threw it into the water.

And then blinked in muted surprise at the little corvette anchored not far out. That was unusual. She didn’t get to see _new_ things in the Locker very often.

This was probably another ship she’d attacked, making one of those coldly judgemental visitations that plagued her. Ahsoka Tano didn’t like attacking merchant vessels. She avoided it when she could; it was incredible the kind of loot you could turn up that didn’t have to be snatched from honest sailors. But sometimes food and medicine ran low, the ship needed repairs, and she had to choose between her people or theirs. And she had to live with that.

Or, you know, not live with it. Do whatever this was.

She lay down on her back again as the rowboat from the unfamiliar vessel grounded itself on the beach. This wouldn’t be the first conversation she’d had with her victims. The Locker did that. At least it was a break from the monotony.

Which made it a bit of a surprise, actually, when she turned her head and recognized the anxious young woman at the head of the group.

Ahsoka gave a lazy grin at the apparition. “Hey there, kitten.”

Barriss’ face lit up; she took a few steps forward and then paused, confusion taking over.

“I...hello?”

Ahsoka pushed herself back up her elbows. “That’s a nice change,” she said out loud. Obviously she was talking to herself, but if she was going to have hallucinatory visitors she at least wanted to take the opportunity to have a conversation. “Normally I only get people who hate me. _You,_ Miss Offee, are a sight for sore eyes. _Thanks, Skyguy!”_ she added, raising her voice to address the flat white sky.

Barriss hesitated, taking half a step forward and then rocking back on her heels. “I’m not...sure what you mean. Ahsoka, I came to...you seem very unsurprised.”

“Well, it’s a little bit weird,” Ahsoka admitted. “You know. My big brother sending me visions of the pretty girl I left behind. But he’s just trying to help, probably. Unless you’re gonna turn into a squid or something as soon as I kiss you. Speaking of which, you can come over here if you want, sweetheart.”

Ahsoka had almost forgotten the rest of the group; the woman rolled her eyes, a few of them threw their hands in the air, and the youngest kid glanced nervously up at one of the others. Very realistic reactions for a hallucination.

“Ahsoka,” Barriss said warily. “Are you...all right? I came to bring you back, we...they need you rather badly.”

Ahsoka had learned a long time ago not to pay much attention to the script her ghosts showed up with. They were all in her head anyway, after all. But as she spoke, the hallucinatory Barriss Offee had reached slowly into her Navy jacket and pulled out an old, battered scroll. An old, battered, _familiar_ scroll.

All of a sudden, Ahsoka was paying _very_ close attention.

 _“...Oh,”_ she said. Very slowly, she looked back up at Barriss—a Barriss who, it seemed, might be significantly less a product of delirium than originally thought. “Oh.”

She thought for a second.

“Could you, um,” she said weakly. “Can we all just pretend you didn’t hear any of that?”

* * *

The eerie silence of the Locker was beginning to get to them.

Barriss had given up on getting any sleep; without the whisper of waves against the _Ghost’s_ hull, it was too quiet to even try. The temperature here could best be described as nonexistent—not cold, not warm—but she still wrapped a blanket around her shoulders on reflex as she crept up onto the deck.

She paused with one hand resting on the inside of the hatch as she realized she wasn’t the only one unable to sleep.

“...never heard anyone talk about the _Twilight_ that way,” said Ezra. “I’m...really sorry that happened to you.”

He stood with Ahsoka in the dim circle of light from one of the _Ghost’s_ lanterns. Ahsoka was, ostensibly, on watch; but there was nothing here to keep watch against. Ezra was sitting on the bulwark, hands folded in his lap and watching Ahsoka with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Ahsoka smiled faintly. “It’s complicated, Ezra.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” he agreed, prompting a snort from Ahsoka. After a moment of hesitation, he asked, “So...what’s all this stuff about a heart? That’s, uh.” He cleared his throat. “That’s like...a metaphor, right?”

Ahsoka looked at him.

He winced. “Right,” he said. “So, uh...how, um. How’d _that_ happen?”

Ahsoka gave a low, mirthless chuckle and shook her head, glancing up and nodding a greeting as Barriss stepped hesitantly onto the deck.

“You might not like that story, Ezra,” Ahsoka said. “It wasn’t much fun.”

Ezra nodded his understanding; when the wide-eyed, inquisitive look never wavered, Ahsoka smiled a bit.

“Well,” she said quietly. _“We’re_ immortal. Everyone who was crewing _Twilight_ at the time. He agreed to act as the ferryman in exchange for our lives, so...I guess she thought it was a fair deal. But he only bargained for his ship and the lives of his crew, and that’s...a lot of people left to lose. Obi-Wan was the first time it really hit home. He was...sort of our father,” she explained as Barriss settled down beside Ezra. “I guess. He was Anakin’s first captain, we both served under him for years before we finally got our hands on the _Twilight._ But he was an honest merchant.”

“So he couldn’t be in contact with pirates. Even though he knew the truth.”

She nodded to Ezra. “And he was older than us, and sailing can be rough on your body. But we always knew it would happen someday. He was…” She took a deep breath and let it out. “He was a lot less ready when his wife died.”

Before she could stop herself, Barriss whispered something under her breath she’d heard from one of Hondo’s crew when the man dropped a hammer on his foot. Ahsoka shot her a mischievous look at the expletive, but the flash of lighthearted humor passed quickly.

“I didn’t know Anakin Skywalker was married,” said Ezra.

“Most people didn’t. She was out of his league,” Ahsoka said with a faint twitch of her lips. “He was just a merchant sailor, and not even a very well-established one. That’s what you have to remember, if it wasn’t for...we weren’t anything special back then.” Her grip on the ship’s rail tightened. “We were just _kids.”_

With Ezra in the way, Barriss had to resist the urge to reach out and squeeze Ahsoka’s hand. To her faint surprise, the boy did it for her.

Ahsoka managed to smile at him. Barriss knew her well enough by now to recognize it as genuine.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, before continuing. “Padme, on the other hand...well. Nobody could tell _her_ what to do. And he could still see her, but only very rarely. The way it works…”

“Oh!” Ezra straightened. “I think I know this part. It’s...he can go ashore once every five years, right?”

“Ten,” Barriss corrected on reflex.

“It’s _seven,_ actually,” Ahsoka said, tone somewhat drier than it had been. “Do you want me to tell you about the heart thing or not?”

Barriss stuck her tongue out behind Ezra’s head. Ezra, for his part, looked properly abashed.

Ahsoka shook her head at them both, and took several long, quiet heartbeats to gather her thoughts a bit.

“He just...thought they’d have more time,” she said finally. “It was just...a rough season, and we didn’t expect it to hit her so badly. She always worked herself too hard; that can’t have helped. But he was busy doing the job, wasn’t he? By the time anyone got word to us that she was sick, she’d already died.”

Barriss’ eyes tightened. It was a fact of life when loved ones were separated by that kind of distance; but she had been lucky so far to never have family so far away that such a thing was likely to happen. She couldn’t imagine the pain it must have caused Ahsoka’s brother.

“How’d he take it?” asked Ezra. Then, “Well. I guess not very well, huh? What with the whole…”

“Yeah,” said Ahsoka. She turned a coin over between her fingers. “Maybe it would have helped if she’d died at sea and he’d been able to say goodbye, or maybe that would just have made it worse. Anakin always needed to _do_ something. If there was a problem, he had to solve it. Losing Padme and not being able to do anything to help—he couldn’t handle it. He knew he couldn’t die, and, well.” She managed a weak smile. “My brother’s a _bit_ of a drama queen. So he took a knife and just sort of…”

“Cut out his _heart?”_

Ezra sounded disturbed. Barriss, after an absurd moment of irritation at the fact that none of this had ever come up in her reading, tried to think about it slightly more rationally. She supposed, as a purely symbolic gesture, she could at least understand what might have driven a man to that point.

Ahsoka was still playing with her coin.

“There has to be a ferryman,” she said softly. “He can’t choose to opt out of that. He gave his word, he made a deal. The sea won’t _let_ him die by his own hand; he promised eternity and she won’t be cheated.”

Ezra sat forward eagerly. “Really?” he asked. “So, like...if I shot you right now…”

 _“Ezra!”_ Barriss exclaimed.

Ahsoka had to grin at that. “We’re not gods. If you shot me right now...well, nothing would happen, because we’re in the Locker,” she admitted. “But normally, I’d die. The sea doesn’t protect fools.”

Barriss frowned slightly. That didn’t seem consistent with the way Rex had talked about them. “It seems counterproductive, if you’re fulfilling your end of the bargain…”

Ahsoka smiled at her. It was a sad expression.

“I never made any bargain,” she reminded her. “Anakin did. We follow him because we love him, but our lives are our own. If we waste them doing something stupid, that’s our problem. She won’t save us twice. Even Anakin. He can’t die naturally, but the sea _is_ change. He just can’t back out of a bargain. If someone _chooses_ to take up the debt for him, they can take his place, but he doesn’t get his life back, you know? Either he’s the ferryman, or he dies and his killer takes his place.”

Ezra stirred. “Do you think…” He swallowed, then tried again. “If he _could_...you know, kill himself. Do you think he…?”

“There’ve been a few times when I thought he might ask,” Ahsoka answered quietly.

Ezra looked up hesitantly. “Why didn’t he? Did he just...not want to make someone he loved take his place?”

Barriss reached out to put an arm around him only to find Ahsoka doing the same thing. She resisted the urge to jerk her hand back.

“It’s not all bad, Ezra.” Ahsoka had that distant look in her eyes. The irises were blank here in the Locker; Barriss had noticed them right away. It confirmed a quiet theory of hers; Ahsoka Tano’s eyes really _were_ the color of the sea, empty in this place where the sea did not truly exist. “Anakin’s a protector at heart, that’s why he made such a good merchant skipper. He makes sure the worst pirates are contained in the Locker where their spirits can’t hurt anyone. He finds souls who are lost and scared and he’s the one who brings them onboard and tells them they’re safe, makes sure they’re sent on. Sometimes he even finds wrecks in time to save someone. Someone has to do the job, and he wants it to be him.”

Ezra nodded slowly. Barriss hardly noticed; she was watching Ahsoka.

 _I’ve never heard anyone talk about the_ Twilight _that way._ Maybe Ezra hadn’t, but Barriss had. Once. At the time it had felt surreal, like an oil painting of another world; one she had never been part of and in which she didn’t belong. Now...now, she felt like she almost understood. She was sitting on the rail of a smuggler’s ship in the land of the dead, listening to a mythological figure’s little sister talk about the unexpected joys of crewing a ghost ship of the damned, and it felt entirely natural.

“So.” Ezra cleared his throat and sat up straight. “What’re we gonna do? Once we get back, I mean.”

Ahsoka sighed. “That’s a good question, kid.”

“Well, I doubt Skywalker is in any immediate danger,” Barriss pointed out. “I know what you said about the curse, as a consequence of his being prevented from performing his duties. But if the only danger is that of the Company possessing the heart, and of their threat to his children, I can’t help but feel you may be overestimating the degree of control they have over him. They can’t harm their bargaining chips, and I certainly can’t imagine any of _them_ taking on the ferryman’s burden!”

Ahsoka snorted. “You’re not wrong.” She shook her head. “I wish it was that simple, kitten. But _he’s_ the one who chose to put that kind of...power, I guess, into his physical heart. He cut it out because he wanted to escape from his pain and grief, and when he did that he infused it with everything he loved, his whole soul. So now, if you control that…”

“A metaphor becomes literal?” Barriss suggested.

Ahsoka nodded her head jerkily. “How can you refuse the orders of someone holding your soul in their hand?”

There was silence for some time as they digested this information.

Ezra spoke first. “So...what _are_ you gonna do?”

After a pause, Ahsoka gave a tired smile and ruffled the boy’s shaggy hair.

“I’m working on it,” she said quietly. “Get some sleep, Ezra.”

Ezra reluctantly pushed off from the rail and climbed below. After a moment, Ahsoka glanced up at the flat, starless sky, stood up herself, and crossed to the helm to make a minute course correction. Barriss had no idea what Ahsoka was navigating by; but then, perhaps she was called the Princess of the Dead Sea for a reason.

Having completed whatever heading change she felt necessary, Ahsoka  rolled her shoulders, stretched, and pulled a flask from an inside pocket. Barriss recognized it as one of Kanan’s; it bore the stylized gull-in-flight symbol that seemed to be his personal mark.

Hope, Barriss knew from her reading. Sailors’ tattoos generally had some symbolic meaning. The gull was perhaps less traditional than a swallow, but the symbolism was subtly different. Swallows, in sailing superstitions, represented a safe homecoming. Kanan Jarrus didn’t care about returning home; but a seagull meant land nearby, land capable of supporting life. A symbol of renewed hope. An odd symbol, perhaps, for a smuggler.

Even more odd: Hera generally didn’t keep alcohol onboard. Barriss gathered there had been an incident with Sabine, Chopper, a bottle of absinthe, and an attempt to recreate Greek Fire in the cargo hold. Which meant that Ahsoka, who obviously very badly needed a drink, was drowning her sorrows in fresh water.

After so long in the Locker, perhaps that made sense.

Ahsoka smiled at her, tucked the flask away, and leaned back against the _Ghost_ ’s rail. She closed her eyes, seeming to drink in the simple pleasure of being on a ship again. It was some time before either of them spoke.

“Hondo didn’t offer to take you home, then, huh?” Ahsoka finally asked.

Barriss didn’t know what to do with her hands. Eventually, she settled on folding them across her stomach. “Hera did.”

Ahsoka just looked at her, eerily colorless eyes still piercing, and Barriss’ traitorous heart thundered.

She’d been so focused on...everything, ancient mythology coming to life, the intrigue, the fear and the freedom and the guilt, that she hadn’t had much time to think about _Ahsoka_ in ages. It was...perhaps inevitable, that now she was alone with her it was so difficult to forget the last time they’d had a quiet evening to themselves...but she’d already decided that was irrelevant. It had to be. It couldn’t mean anything to her, she couldn’t let it, because that would destroy her.

“You didn’t take her up on it,” Ahsoka observed quietly.

Pulse pounding at Ahsoka’s focus, at how close they were, Barriss gave a jerky shrug and tried to look away.

“Something had to be done about the East India Company,” she said. Her voice was unnaturally thin. “My mother will understand.”

There was another short pause, and Ahsoka’s voice was slightly too understanding as she said, “Well, I’m certainly glad you’re here.”

Barriss’ lips twitched. “Yes,” she said, more easily. “I imagine so. Is this what awaits everyone who…?”

“No,” Ahsoka assured her quickly. “No, most who die at sea pass on. The Locker is a punishment. It’s for those who don’t _deserve_ to rest in peace.”

Barriss looked up in concern. “But you…?”

Ahsoka smiled. It was more of a grimace, really, but she was trying. “The Kraken,” she said simply. “It was always intended as the ultimate judgement, remember? The promise of the Locker is what makes it so terrifying.”

Barriss inclined her head at the reminder, then paused. “You knew.”

“Yes.”

“And you…?”

Ahsoka’s smile was no less pained, but it was slightly warmer.

“Something had to be done,” she said simply.

Almost without realizing it, Barriss shifted her weight toward Ahsoka. It was...natural, terrifyingly natural. She only just managed to catch herself. She couldn’t _do_ this.

Ahsoka, it seemed, had no such inhibitions. She reached out as if to brush her fingers over Barriss’ elbow, but hesitated.

“Barriss,” she said. Then, one eyebrow raised slightly in a question, “Or Miss Offee…?”

She contained a wince. She hadn’t meant to be rude.

“I believe,” she said, “that at this point you may safely assume us to at least be on first-name terms, Captain.” She said it as evenly and with as much good humor as possible, which...was not much, at the moment. Still, she was trying.

Ahsoka gave a soft laugh and completed the aborted gesture, drawing gentle fingers along the inside of Barriss’ arm. “I didn’t expect to see you again. Not here, at least.” She smiled. “Rex would have seen you on the water before long, I’ll bet.”

Barriss forced a shadow of a smile. She didn’t know _what_ she wanted anymore. She missed her mother, she knew now she could never turn her back on the sea, she couldn’t bear Ahsoka’s soft touches and couldn’t bear to lose them…

“So. What happened while I was away that has you so quiet, kitten?” Ahsoka’s thumb rubbed the inside of her elbow reassuringly. “Whatever it is, don’t keep it to yourself. I’ve probably dealt with worse before, I’d rather know everything.”

Barriss took a shaky breath and gently disentangled herself. “It’s nothing like that,” she promised. “I...I only hope you know that I’m not as helplessly naive as some people seem to think.” Ahsoka frowned and started to speak, and Barriss held up a hand. “Please. I think it’s obvious that I have...a great deal of affection for you, however ill-advised it might be. I realize that what happened between us was...You thought we were going to die, and I was there and willing. I don’t...expect anything from you, and I would thank you not to try to be delicate with me when clean honesty would be kinder. You _do_ owe me that much.”

She’d run that speech in her head a thousand times during the voyage south. It wasn’t...the whole truth, but it was more than her pride was capable of to tell an immortal pirate lord with a century’s experience the depth of her own feelings. She already felt like a fool, she didn’t need Ahsoka’s pity.

There was silence for some time. When Ahsoka finally spoke, her voice was low. And...not angry, not even hurt, but there was a hint of roughness along the edges.

“Do you want the names?” she asked quietly.

Barriss looked up, frowning. “I’m sorry?”

Ahsoka didn’t even blink. “The girls before you. Do you want their names?”

Barriss flinched a bit, she couldn’t help it. The implication stung. “This isn’t about _jealousy,_ Ahsoka,” she said. “I simply want to know exactly where I stand to avoid any unnecessary miscommunications in the future.”

“Of course.”

“I mean it!”

“I know.” Ahsoka was very still, and she still didn’t look away. Her pale eyes were gentle. “And I’m saying I’m over a hundred years old, and I’m a pirate, and I remember all of the names.”

Barriss considered this for a moment.

“I...see.”

“There haven’t been very many,” Ahsoka translated drily, and Barriss glared at her without heat. Ahsoka gave the first real grin Barriss had seen from her since her rescue, and relaxed, her body language softening as she leaned against the rail. “Well. Not many who ever...sometimes you just want company for the night,” she said. There was no defensiveness in the statement, but she did watch Barriss for a reaction.

There wasn’t one. Barriss Offee, as she had said, was not so naive as to be scandalized by the concept of a casual liaison.

Ahsoka gave a slight nod and continued. “But I’m honest. Not about most things,” she admitted with another, more rakish grin. “But I’m honest about that. If it’s a bit of fun, you know that going in. I don’t have to trick a girl into bed, kitten.”

Barriss nodded slowly.

Ahsoka very gently ran her knuckles down Barriss’ side. “I’m immortal,” she said, barely above a murmur. “And you and the others aren’t. That’s...not fair, to ask of someone. Not for very long. Some of them died, but most just needed to move on. Find someone who’s not frozen at twenty. That’s how it’s supposed to be. There’s always a price, for what the sea gives you.”

Barriss leaned into the gentle touch and let Ahsoka put an arm around her waist.

“So.” She cleared her throat. “What are you…?”

Ahsoka smiled sadly against her temple. “I’m saying I won’t make promises I can’t keep, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could.”

Barriss knew, intellectually, that Ahsoka was trying to gently warn her off. Her heart didn’t care. This was more of an affirmation than she’d dared hope for.

“Well,” she murmured. “We’re probably all going to die soon.”

She felt Ahsoka’s mirthless laughter, the worn leather chest shaking against her.

“That’s one way to think about it,” Ahsoka admitted. “I just...want you to know what you’re getting into.”

“I never know what I’m getting into anymore,” Barriss muttered under her breath. When Ahsoka didn’t laugh at that, she bumped the girl with her shoulder. “I...appreciate the thought. But no one ever has a guarantee. My father died before I was born.”

After a moment, Ahsoka gave a real smile. She fished around inside her jacket for a few moments; difficult, without moving the arm she had around Barriss, but she managed to extricate Kanan’s flask. With a warm smile and a spark of real happiness in those bleached-out eyes, she raised it in Barriss’ direction.

“To the time we have, then, kitten.” She took a swig and then passed the flask to Barriss. Barriss did not particularly see the point in keeping water in a flask, but she humored Ahsoka’s mood. There was, she admitted, a certain pleasure in something cool and real amid all this bland silence.

And a certain pleasure, certainly, in the way their fingers brushed as she passed the flask back to Ahsoka, the gently encouraging circles being drawn just over her hip as she pressed more fully against Ahsoka’s side. The warm fingers in her hair and a contented hum against her temple as Ahsoka nuzzled closer. There had to be somewhere private on the _Ghost…_

“Wow,” Sabine said, unimpressed. “Sure glad we’ve got the Princess of the Dead Sea on watch. Someone else might’ve gotten distracted.”

Barriss jumped; Ahsoka’s arm kept her from leaping away, and the girl pressed an unhurried kiss to her jaw before turning to smirk in Sabine’s direction.

Sabine rolled her eyes. “I’m here to relieve you,” she said. “So, you know...you can go somewhere else now.”

Ahsoka glanced up at the flat sky again and shook her head. “No point. It’s almost dawn.”

Barriss looked over at her, curious. “What does that have to do with…?”

By way of answer, Ahsoka nodded toward the horizon.

Barriss looked. The sky was...greyer than before, but still with that utter lack of color. No stars, no moon. But it had been that way for days, she didn’t see what was meant to be so interesting about…

As she watched, the band of lighter sky...rippled.

No, perhaps that was too dramatic a term. It was only a slight variation, almost a vibration, a sense of slow movement all across the sky. It was a stark contrast to the sea around them, which was quieting by the second, becoming almost as eerily mirror-smooth as the Gulf of Worlds.

And yet even as the waves calmed around them the _Ghost_ seemed to be picking up speed; even as Barriss frowned at the horizon the little corvette’s sails snapped tight. The wind that had no effect on the water nevertheless seemed to be agitating the sky above them, and Barriss squinted up. The pattern was almost familiar, the dark sky flashing patterns of light, seeming to reach down toward them before rolling away, like…

...like waves…

She had barely a second to realize that dawn was breaking _downward,_ the sun emerging from out of the wind-tossed sea above them to slide across an ocean smooth as the sky. Then Ahsoka gripped a shroud, tightened her hold on Barriss, and said quietly, “Hold on to something.”

And with a sound like glass breaking, whatever held the sea and sky apart snapped, and the dark water fell down to meet them.

* * *

The worst part, Steela thought, was that Saw had a point.

“The captain gives orders on this ship, Saw,” she informed him; but there was no heat in it, and they could both tell.

Saw shook his head. “I’m not challenging you, Steela.” He was irritatingly earnest. “I was ready to be honorable about this too, but you _made the right decision._ Whether we planned it or not, there’s no reason not to—”

“Brace about,” she ordered shortly. She needed to think.

With a sigh, her brother let her walk off. She heard him calling orders behind her and paid them no attention. Her people hardly needed her personal attention in order to _tack._ And Ahsoka’s men were better than her own.

She sighed and rubbed her face. Ahsoka’s men. That was the core of the problem.

Well, she couldn’t have left them in the brig _forever,_ they’d done nothing wrong. She _respected_ Rex, and the others were the kind of men she’d have recruited herself—competent and loyal, focused, but not so serious they didn’t know how to relax. Unlike some people, _Saw._

She’d...compromised, with her own convictions. She didn’t particularly want to imprison them at all, but they’d fought just as fiercely for their captain as her own people would have fought for her, and she didn’t dare underestimate that bond. Two weeks. After two weeks, she’d sat down with Rex and laid out, with brutal practicality, that they would gain nothing at this point from trying to retake the ship. Either Ahsoka had found her own way off that island, or she was long since dead.

God, Steela hoped she’d escaped. She didn’t want to be remembered as the woman who murdered Ahsoka Tano. But she hadn’t had a choice. Her first duty, always, was to her people; Ahsoka knew that.

So reluctantly, grinding their teeth, visibly in pain, Ahsoka’s five had been folded back into the crew. She’d quietly placed Rex as her second mate, and they’d gone several months without incident.

There was a bit of guilt, in that. Steela sighed. She really would have been willing to take orders from Rex, but everyone on the _Fulcrum_ knew where the power lay in this group. Rex would never have had real authority on the ship, and everyone knew it. He’d told her point-blank not to offer, because he wasn’t stupid.

She trusted in his honor and believed he and his brothers would keep their word. But the fact was, that honor was dangerous. Not to her, of course, they couldn’t have risen against her even if treachery was in their nature. If anything they were a danger to themselves, because despite her best efforts her crew didn’t trust them. Her brother certainly never would.

She sighed deeply as she gripped the rail, staring blankly out at the setting sun. It would have been beautiful if she were in any state to appreciate it.

Saw wasn’t wrong: it would be better for everyone to put Rex, Jesse, Echo, Hardcase, and Fives ashore with fair compensation for their labor and be done with it. They were highly skilled tars, they’d be fine. And if Ahsoka was alive, they’d find her eventually. They always did.

It just felt...dirtily like betraying her friend, and a solemn oath, so that she could steal the _Fulcrum_ and run off with it. Which wasn’t how Steela Gerrera did things. Still, Saw had a point. Eventually, honor wasn’t worth it…

Steela straightened with a jerk, blinking rapidly. Trick of the light, she thought uneasily. Or a coincidence. Funny, she’d always assumed the green flash was a myth, but there was no reason it had to be. But all the superstitions about a flash of green at sunset heralding a soul returning from the dead would be just that…

Something massive and dark was moving under the water. Steela’s blood ran cold as she remembered the mark of the Kraken.

 _“All hands to stations!”_ she shouted, too late. The shape was shooting straight for them—

Scattering a wild spray of water that flashed in the last of the sun’s light, a ship burst from the depths. Her first, terrified thought—the _Twilight_ come for revenge—proved unfounded; this ship was brighter, mortal, the sails white and faded paint in cheerful colors adorning her sides. The name _Spectre_ flashed in white near the bow. She bounced several times with the shock of her reappearance, water pouring over her sides as the few crew on-deck coughed and spluttered

After several seconds, a familiar figure adjusted her hat and stepped up onto the bulwark of the waterlogged corvette, tossing Steela a jauntily insolent salute.

“Evening,” Ahsoka called cheerfully. “I’d like my ship back, thanks.”


	4. The Brethren Court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, it's been eleven months. I'm sorry, guys--grad school applications and apartment hunting have been a BITCH this past year. But I'm here now, and SUPER excited to finish this story!

  
“All right.” Ahsoka leaned forward, resting her elbows against _Fulcrum’s_ rail beside Barriss. “Tell me what you know.” Barriss rolled her eyes and ignored the question.

They were coming up on Takodana now; a lush green island at first glance, when the volcano wasn’t active. The forbidding walls of jagged rock forming a natural barrier ring around the place spoke of the destructive power this seeming paradise was capable of. Anyway, their destination wasn’t in sight yet.

It was technically possible to enter Shipwreck Cove under sail, but the winds were intermittent today. Anakin hadn’t exactly trained her in the “better safe than sorry” school of thought, but the bones of countless ships who’d come before them littered the sharp barrier walls and she had no desire to add any more to that pile. She intended to keep _Fulcrum_ for a long time; and there was Syndulla’s clever little _Ghost_ to think of as well, shadowing them through the pass.

Ahsoka was going in with oars and depth sounders. They couldn’t afford mistakes today.

 _“Stand by to douse sail!”_ Rex called, somewhere behind her. He was echoed a moment later by Steela, who added, _“Get oars to pass!”_

Steela could have been a _serious_ problem; if she’d refused to give _Fulcrum_ back, things would have gotten very ugly very fast. But Ahsoka had never been too concerned about that. There’d been a moment of tension as Ahsoka stepped back onboard...but she’d held her hands out, showing the backs and then the unmarked palms. After a moment, Steela had calmly asked for a heading.

That tension would linger for a while; but Steela’s people were good ones. They took after their leader.

“Why don’t you just tell me which of my preconceptions you’re obviously looking forward to shattering?” Barriss tossed back. Ahsoka smiled.

“I mean it,” she said simply. “How much do you know about the Brethren Court?”

Barriss considered it, now that she was sure she wasn’t being teased. “Well,” she said. “There are eight pirate lords, each a direct descendant of the original Court. Through succession, not necessarily blood,” she qualified. “The title is passed from one pirate to the next as they find worthy successors. Each is able to judge for themselves what they consider to be ‘worthy’. Membership criteria are therefore somewhat lax.”

Ahsoka, through a Herculean effort, managed not to burst out laughing at the matter-of-fact formality of the statement.

Barriss continued. “There is a ninth position on the Court, which I _assumed_ was purely _symbolic,”_ she said with a faux-irritable glance in Ahsoka’s direction. “A place set aside for the Ferryman—well, a representative of the Ferryman, as he has duties that take precedence over the mortal sphere.”

“I’m disappointed,” said Ahsoka. “Only a word-for-word quotation? Here I was expecting the page number.”

 _“He names a speaker,”_ Barriss continued firmly, elbowing Ahsoka in the ribs, “who presides in his place. The representative has no vote except to act as a tiebreaker.” She paused, and turned to face Ahsoka fully. “Something has always interested me. The presence of an allowance for the Ferryman in the original Code as established by Revan implies the position has been around far longer than your brother. Unless it was a recent addition?”

Ahsoka’s eyebrows lifted of their own accord. “You know,” she said, “I actually never thought about it. I guess Anakin might know, but he never mentioned it to me.”

Barriss made a small noise of acknowledgement in her throat. “I suppose the sea has some secrets no one will ever discover. Do let me know if you hear of anything, however? It would make a fascinating topic of study.”

“You need to talk to Maz,” Ahsoka said with a grin. This girl was something else. “Keeper of the Code, there’s always—well, you tell me.”

“If you ever get tired of piracy you could be a governess,” Barriss complained.

Ahsoka kissed her, which apparently mollified her enough to answer.

“The Keeper of the Code is a former Pirate Lord or a Lord’s first mate, who gives up their position in perpetuity in order to study the law and history of the Brethren so that it can be preserved,” Barriss recited obligingly. “In the event of a Pirate Lord or Lords dying without naming a successor or leaving a first mate, the Code includes procedures for filling their place on the Court, which the Keeper of the Code would officiate.”

Ahsoka inclined her head.

“Important job,” she said. “And there’ve been corrupt ones in the past.”

“I remember,” said Barriss, apparently forgetting the indignity of being questioned in light of being able to talk about interesting historical facts. “I believe after the... _fiasco_ seems an appropriate word...with Traya, the Code was amended so that a new Keeper has to be unanimously approved in a secret ballot.”

“I actually don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ahsoka admitted. Not everyone learned how to be a pirate from books. Then, “Remind me to ask you later, kitten. We’re here.”

The entrance was all but invisible, even if you knew exactly what you were looking for. And once you’d slipped through the passage you’d find yourself in a massive cavern, open to the sky but surrounded by jagged volcanic rock so high and steep there was never sunlight except at noon. This wasn’t the deceptive tide-rush passage of Shipkiller, either; the cove at Takodana really was the safety it promised. More than once the Navy had anchored its scout ships in a harbor offshore for weeks while search parties combed the island, and never found the pirates who’d fled there.

Maz had very strict rules about running for home. You took no chances about leading the Navy to Shipwreck Cove; but if you could make it in time, you were safe here. What was more, once you got through the entryway it was massive. You could anchor a fleet in that bay.

And they did.

The narrow, twisting passage through the jagged rocks opened up before them; Ahsoka looked over just in time to see Barriss’ face light up in wonder. Dim sunbeams lanced across the vast cavern at too oblique an angle to reach the water; vines and leafy overgrowth cascaded over the sides of the high walls; in the center of the hidden bay the hulk of a massive, ancient galleon pierced its own breast on an island of stone, just high enough to be clear of the tide line.

She was worn, scoured by time and rain, but well-preserved even so. If you looked hard enough and knew exactly what you were searching for, the _Ebon Hawk’s_ name was still almost visible along her side.

And surrounding the _Hawk,_ closer and in greater numbers than anyone else in the world had ever seen, the Brethren Court sat at anchor.

“Well, Hondo arrived safely,” Barriss observed, pointing out a trio of shabby, scarlet-painted sloops just off their port bow as Steela called orders to the oarsmen below and brought _Fulcrum_ slowly to starboard, circling around the island to their designated compass point.

“Finally found the rest of his fleet,” Ahsoka observed wryly, earning her a soft laugh. “You know _Florrum._ That’s _Insolence_ with her, and the little one’s _Pirate._ I’m pretty sure they were drunk and ran out of names. There’s some real ladies here, though, you’ll see.”

It felt good, being able to show off a bit. And this was a clean kind of knowledge, as well; no long-buried trauma, no darkness, no curses under a black sky. This, she’d earned with the wind at her back. Ahsoka Tano never forgot a lady, and she never forgot a ship. Even _Fulcrum,_ the pride of the Royal Navy, was humbled in the presence of the full Court.

She was humbled by _some_ of them, anyway. Hondo was here, after all.

One of Steela’s people hissed, and Ahsoka followed his glare toward the massive black-painted ship of the line anchored in their path. Reflexively, she put an arm around Barriss’ waist.

“Maul,” she said quietly, eyeing _Scimitar_ as they rowed past her. Her captain’s sigil was sewn directly into the sails; scarlet on black, sharp patches in dyed sailcloth. There would be no sneaky maneuvering or false-flag cleverness from her. Just like her master—all raw, uncompromising power.

Most of the vessels in the harbor kept a pointed distance as if unwilling to soil themselves by associating with her; only one group of ships allowed her near, and no one was going risk angering the Dathomiri by making any comment on their choice of company.

“They’re beautiful,” Barriss murmured, running eyes appreciatively down the polished wood and gleaming steel of the largest single fleet of the Brethren Court.

Ahsoka had to agree. “Talzin knows what she’s doing,” she admitted, gesturing out over the array of gorgeous junks. “That’s her flagship nearest Maul’s.” It was an unnecessary observation; _Nightsister_ was a solid, gleaming wall of dark wood, big enough that even _Scimitar_ seemed humble and demure in her presence. And the others sheltered behind her like ducklings were just as sleek; indistinguishable sister ships, all with blood-red sails. _Witch, Mistborne, Poison, Magic, Consort..._

“Are we the last to arrive?” asked Barriss. She was standing on tiptoe to peer around them at the distinct clusters or single ships scattered around the harbor, counting groups off on her fingers. “The others may just be on the far side of the island.”

“I’m not sure.” Ahsoka squinted into the half-light. “No, we can’t be, if Aayla were here we’d have spotted the _Resolute_ coming in, it’s hard to hide a ship of the line. I don’t think Dooku’s here yet either—no, that’s him.” She curled her lip and spat over the side. “He’s still got that _fucking_ ship.”

 _Count_ Dooku’s command ship was the _Invisible Hand_ , a perfectly respectable square-rigged brigantine with the same attention-grabbing ink-black paint Maul used—though Dooku at least had the taste to refrain from black-dyed sails. Anakin had always called Maul’s _Scimitar_ the “Copycat”.

But _Tyrant_ was Dooku’s attack ship, and it was a slave ship. It was no longer used in its original purpose, the Code forbid that; but Dooku hadn’t always been a pirate lord, and he’d brought his ship with him when he turned. Horror still clung to the beams. The Code forbid one pirate lord from attacking another, but some things were more important than laws and Ahsoka had spent twenty years trying to catch and sink the ugly thing. The danger had always been Dooku’s numerical advantage; she’d never been able to catch _Tyrant_ alone.

Yet.

Of course, she had Barriss now, and Ahsoka had realized very quickly that Barriss was genuinely brilliant. Dooku might yet get what he deserved.

Remembering her manners, she pointed out the slim, pretty vessel with jagged red sails tucked into the shadow of the _Invisible Hand._ “That’s _Assassin,”_ she said. “Asajj Ventress is technically Dooku’s second in command, but he trusts her about as far as he could throw the _Ebon Hawk._ He keeps her off the ship as much as possible, gave her that little caravel to run scouting missions.” _Assassin_ was less powerful even than a sloop, but it maneuvered and beat into the wind like nothing else on the water. If Ventress ever needed to run, she’d have a pretty decent chance.

Assuming she got clear of _Tyrant,_ of course.

There wasn’t much to comment on as they brought _Fulcrum_ around. Ahsoka recognized Cham’s flag over his fleet, but most of his ships were little things; scouts or supply-runners with few or no weapons. Even his gunships were cycled in and out so often she could barely recognize them; of the three he had she could pick out only _Free Ryloth_ and what was probably a barque called _Catalyst._ And the first hardly counted, because Cham’s flagship was _always_ renamed _Free Ryloth,_ whatever she might have been before.

But Ahsoka, unlike Barriss, knew exactly where every member of the Court was meant to anchor. She’d told Rex to bring them around this way specifically so that she could savor this moment.

“Hey, kitten,” she said. “Close your eyes.” Barriss gave her a skeptical sideways glance, but obeyed. Ahsoka waited until they’d come around past the _Ebon Hawk’s_ bow, then smiled.

“All right. You can look.”

Barriss’ breath caught audibly.

The man’o’war _Tranquility_ was the unquestioned jewel of the Court. Painted in tasteful emerald and azure down to the waterline, the dim light flashed off of every one of her hundred and twenty-four guns.

Ahsoka had always privately thought that there was simply no _point_ to a man’o’war as a pirate ship; _Tranquility_ maneuvered poorly and couldn’t run down anything faster than a fat galleon. But for some reason, no one ever voiced that opinion while anchored next to her.

The Pirate Queen of the Spanish Main gave nothing away, and no one had ever seen her fleet together. She arrived to scheduled meetings with _Tranquility_ alone, and would never confirm the size, location, or makeup of her forces. No one knew where she’d gotten the flagship, either; much like _Nightsister,_ the presence of _Tranquility_ made people think twice before they asked. No one would threaten the fleet with _that_ leviathan waiting for them.

 _Fulcrum’s_ eighteen cannons slipped past her as politely as they possibly could.

Ahsoka let the moment of breathless awe linger; then, unfortunately, she had to push away from the railing and sigh. They wouldn’t get anything done standing around.

“Rex,” Ahsoka called. “Get her secured and then bring Steela to the council chamber. I’m going ashore.”

* * *

The weight of ages pressed down on this place.

Barriss couldn’t escape the thought, as Ahsoka tossed a line around a cleat and tied off the rowboat. It took her breath away, looking up at the ancient wreck looming above them. _Revan’s flagship._ The greatest pirate lord of all time. And here was a remnant of her influence carefully maintained in red cedar and fresh rope and canvas over all these centuries, untouched by the outside world.

There was a moment, as Ahsoka—the Ferryman’s speaker, timeless, almost fae, touched by the spirit of the sea—stepped onto the dock and turned to offer Barriss her hand, that she felt nearly immortal herself. Caught between worlds, as if given a glimpse into another time, one that rang with long-forgotten power.

The things these worn, ancient timbers had seen, terrible and magnificent, base greed and golden courage…

“So you finally showed up,” griped a tiny, wizened old woman watching them with crossed arms. “Took you long enough, Tano.”

Ahsoka pulled Barriss onto the creaking dock. “Nice to see you too, Maz. I was dead.”

Maz didn’t seem impressed. “That’s no excuse. I’ve had Hondo here for a _month_ now.”

Barriss was tongue-tied in the presence of the Keeper of the Code; Ahsoka just grinned.

“Sorry, Maz,” she said wryly. “Trust me, I’d have gotten here quicker if I could. We’re not the last ones, are we?”

Maz narrowed her eyes distrustfully in Ahsoka’s direction and hummed. “Mmm. Just barely after that young Solo fellow. He really shouldn’t be here,” she confessed to Barriss with a conspiratorial wink. “But I like his first mate.”

“Well,” Ahsoka had to acknowledge. “I’d be here too, if my wife had been kidnapped by the Company. The _Millennium Falcon,”_ she explained to Barriss, pointing out the sad, half-derelict single-masted sloop bobbing awkwardly near the island. “She’s quick and maneuverable, but she hasn’t been maintained properly in decades. Doesn’t matter how fast a ship is if you can’t trust her.”

“Shouldn’t she be here, if the Court is in session?” Barriss asked.

Ahsoka shook her head. “Owned and captained by a Han Solo. He’s not on the Court.” God forbid. “But he’s married to one of Anakin’s kids, so he’s sort of...unofficially under my banner. A scout, I guess. No vote, but I listen to his reports.”

Maz smiled. “You’ll like his report this time,” she informed Ahsoka. “His wife has _not_ been kidnapped by those dogs. Not for very long, at least.”

Ahsoka’s head snapped around to the old woman. _“Leia’s here?_ Luke? Since when?”

Her wide, thick spectacles made it easy to watch the Keeper of the Code’s elaborate eye-roll. “Yes, no, three weeks, and before you ask, he’s fine. He exchanged the _Rat_ for Syndulla’s _Explorer_ and gave her the old _Red Five_ ’s paint job to throw the Navy off his scent.”

Ahsoka’s eyes glinted like sunlight off breaking waves, transported by sudden hope. Barriss resisted a sudden urge to grip her arm and steady her. “There’s still a chance…” she breathed. Then, “What’s his plan?”

“Are independent merchants my business now too? Ask his sister,” Maz answered shortly. Her gaze sharpened as she peered into Barriss’ face; after a moment she fished a pair of even more enormous spectacles out of an inside pocket and gestured Barriss closer. “And who’s this, then?”

Ahsoka, visibly shaking herself back to reality, reached out and brushed reassuring fingertips over the base of Barriss’ spine as she reluctantly let herself be seated on a battered crate in front of the Keeper. “Barriss, this is Maz Kanata,” she said. “Maz, Barriss.”

“That,” Maz observed crisply, “is not an answer, Captain Tano.”

She squinted into Barriss’ face for several moments; Barriss had the odd sensation of being put under a magnifying glass. When that inspection was over, Captain Kanata’s sharp eyes flicked over her at lightning speed—resting for a split second each on the ancient scroll case still slung across Barriss’ back, the sword at her hip, the frayed golden accents of her Royal Navy overcoat—before she took Barriss’ right wrist and turned her hand over. The old woman’s touch was surprisingly firm.

“Mmm,” she said after a moment, shooting Ahsoka a distinctly unimpressed look. “I thought you had a code about seducing innocents onto the high seas, young one.”

“I do! I didn’t!” Ahsoka’s voice squeaked unconvincingly. “And I’m a hundred years old, Maz!”

“Well, she’s got very badly injured hands for a hardened sailor,” Maz informed her. Then, with a hint of a smirk, “and short nails for a fine lady.”

Ahsoka looked like she’d just swallowed her tongue.

“Who was the last little ingenue you coaxed onto your ship?” Maz wondered aloud. “Chuchi, wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t coax Riyo anywhere, her father _commissioned_ me, it’s not my fault she—that was forty years—Maz, she’s standing right there, you’re embarrassing her.”

Maz laughed quietly and patted Barriss’ hand before releasing her. “Such chivalry from that one,” she commented. “Of course I’m embarrassing _you._ Not her at all.”

Barriss had to smile in spite of herself. She’d earned the right to tease Ahsoka a _little,_ after all. “Whoever heard of a pirate having ulterior motives?” she agreed.

Ahsoka muttered something under her breath to the tune of _supposed to be on my side_.

Maz straightened her glasses and wagged a finger in Ahsoka’s direction. “Young lady,” she informed her sternly. “This girl pulled you out of the Land of the Dead, she can take whichever side she chooses. And _that,”_ she added to Barriss, “will be a story to record in our histories. Though I shudder to think what precedent it will set.” The old woman glared at Ahsoka. “Placing the Ferryman’s charts in the hands of anyone not bound by the Code!”

“I left them with Hondo,” she pointed out. “Sort of. Technically. So really, _he’s_ the one who handed them to an outsider.”

“I assume he neglected to mention that,” Barriss commented.

Maz audibly ground her teeth. “When I get my hands on that boy…”

Ahsoka still looked flustered, but her voice was much more serious as she continued. “And Barriss was under my banner serving as an extra hand on my ship, that gives her rights under the Code. Besides.” Ahsoka gave a fond, lopsided smile. “She was quoting chapter and verse verbatim before we ever met.”

“Not _quite_ before we met,” Barriss reminded her under her breath. Ahsoka had the decency to blush.

Maz Kanata’s gaze sharpened with interest. She gave Barriss another long, piercing once-over before heaving a sigh. “Yes,” the old woman murmured. “I thought she might.”

Before Barriss could ask what _that_ meant, the Keeper of the Code had turned away, shaking herself and stepping back into the brisk focus of a woman whose entire job description was to herd drunken cats.

“Well, get to work, then,” she said crisply. “The world hasn’t stopped because you dropped off the face of it.”

* * *

Bracing his feet against the gangplank, Ezra managed to roll the last barrel of water onto the _Ghost._ Unfortunately, he’d put a little too much muscle into it; when he reached the top of the ramp, the barrel escaped and started rolling away across the deck.

“Hey! No no no—”

There was a dull thud as Zeb, coming up from below decks, stopped the escaping barrel with his foot.

“Watch it, kid.” There was no real heat in his voice, though, so Ezra let it go. Zeb reached down and picked the barrel up under one arm to take it below. “How much left?”

Ezra, who’d fallen over when his barrel escaped, picked himself up and brushed off his sleeves. “Uh...We’ve got the last of the cheese and bacon, but I think Sabine’s bringing up some rice, and Maz says she has one more crate of fruit and we can take one of Hondo’s chickens since his men are all too drunk to stop us.”

Zeb grunted. “Wouldn’t say no to some eggs,” he admitted. “All right, go nab one, just don’t get caught.”

Ezra tried not to be offended at the suggestion.

“It’s pretty decent of Ahsoka to let us resupply here,” he said instead. All the damage the _Ghost_ had taken during the voyage to the Land of the Dead had vanished when they...well, came back to life, he supposed. But their stores hadn’t been magically refilled, and he was looking forward to eating real food again.

Hera, who was marking the new inventory nearby, snorted slightly. “It’s the least they could do,” she pointed out. “We brought her back from the dead.”

“Yeah.” While Hera and Zeb went off to secure the water barrel and double-check the new supplies, Ezra reflexively looked over his shoulder.

They were closer to the island than any of the actual pirate ships, so that they could move supplies to the _Ghost._ The wreck of the big old-fashioned galleon above them felt...uncomfortable. Like it was watching them.

It didn’t help that everyone on the _Ghost_ was tense already. Ezra hadn’t planned on ever going to the Land of the Dead on purpose, that was for sure, and he _definitely_ hadn’t planned on coming back. He hoped Ahsoka...well, he hoped whatever she was doing here, it would work. He hadn’t understood everything Barriss had tried to explain to them, but if it was enough to convince Hera, it was important.

She and Kanan had been weird and quiet ever since they got back, exchanging a lot of meaningful looks; now that they’d allied with pirates once, now that Ahsoka had trusted them with the location of Takodana and Shipwreck Cove...well, Ezra wasn’t sure what that meant for them. He wasn’t sure Hera and Kanan knew what it meant for them either.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the night they’d spent in the Land of the Dead. He’d been curious about this pirate girl they were rescuing—who could blame him for that, honestly—so he’d snuck out to watch her. She hadn’t been angry when she caught him; they’d started talking. She hadn’t seemed like some magical thing out of a story at all. He’d asked whether she was really the _actual_ Anakin Skywalker’s sister or if that was just a metaphor, and...well. It’d been an interesting conversation.

Ezra had known the myth. Every sailor knew the myth, even scrawny cabin boys who’d never meant to go to sea in the first place. Hera had told it to him one night. But the way Ahsoka told it was...a lot different.

There was one thing in particular that wouldn’t leave his head.

 _“Do you think…”_ He’d asked. _“Was it worth it?”_

He hadn’t expected Ahsoka to smile. He hadn’t expected her not to even hesitate.

 _“Yes,”_ she’d said. _“Anakin loves the work. It hurts, seeing everyone who can’t be saved, but if someone is going to be there when they die he wants it to be him. If you’re the Ferryman, you know you’ll go that extra mile, and you know you’ll be as gentle and reassuring as you can while you help them pass on. You can make sure no one is ever abandoned or neglected. And sometimes, very rarely, there’s someone who can still be saved. That’s worth the sacrifice.”_

That had stuck with him, but it wasn’t the part that was haunting Ezra’s sleep.

Ahsoka’s eyes were always the color of the sea; in the Locker, they were clear, empty in a way that made his skin crawl if he looked into them too long. And something in them had been as hollow as her voice when she said:

_“If I’m going to stop this, I have to believe that.”_

The gangplank boomed like a gong, and Ezra yelped and almost toppled off the _Ghost._

“Wake up!” Sabine complained from the shore, where she’d thrown a sack of rice down onto the ramp. “You want to help me with this thing or not?”

Ezra hurried down to her. “Where’s Kanan?”

“Bringing up the fruit,” Sabine said shortly. “And a bottle of wine for Hera. Don’t you have a chicken to steal?”

“Hey,” protested Ezra. “I was helping you with the rice!”

Sabine rolled her eyes and slung the rice over her shoulders. “Just go get the chicken. Hera wants us out of here as soon as everything’s onboard.”

“Okay, okay. I’m _going.”_ Ezra made a rude gesture at her back; Sabine, who couldn’t possibly have seen him, flipped him off with one hand without turning around. He rolled his eyes and went to sneak onto the broken-down red ship they’d unfortunately had to work with before.

He spared a moment to look back up at the noisy remnants of the Ebon Hawk, where Ahsoka would be trying to control the pirate court.

Whatever her plan was, he wanted to hope it would work. But it was hard to wish for that. He had an awful suspicion he knew what Ahsoka was going to do.

* * *

The atmosphere of the ancient and noble Brethren Court, the Conclave of Pirates, sacred and sacrosanct Council of the Order of the Brethren of the Coast, was intimately familiar to anyone who had ever set foot on Tortuga.

Half-unconsciously, Ahsoka twitched her head to the side as a sword flew across the room and embedded itself in the wall behind them.

“Nice to see you too, Hondo!” she shouted over the general chaos.

Hondo raised a tankard to toast her return, sloshing its contents over the man next to him. Luckily, the man didn’t seem in any condition to mind.

“Ah, Princess,” he called, voice colored with the warm affection of a very drunk man. “I knew you would return!”

“You sent my girlfriend to the Land of the Dead,” Ahsoka noted.

“And it appears my instincts were, as always, entirely correct!” he exclaimed cheerfully. “I always _did_ have a talent for these things. Now! Where have you put said young lady, whose presence on my humble flagship was a pleasure and an honor? Captain Syndulla does not work cheap! Miss Offee and I will need to be having a conversation about repaying my charter fee!”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Don’t pass out before the vote,” she told him shortly. “I need you.”

Hondo gave a contented sigh. “Music to my ears. You know, Ahsoka my friend, you are not the first woman to say this to Hondo Ohnaka—”

“Right, fantastic, nice seeing you,” Ahsoka said hurriedly. _“Cham!_ I’d like a word with—and he’s gone.”

She took a deep breath, which given the general atmosphere of the _Ebon Hawk_ and the unique odor of Hondo’s general existence turned out to be a huge mistake. Eyes watering now in addition to her rising blood pressure, Ahsoka pinched the bridge of her nose and listened to her heartbeats, counting down from thirty.

Barriss had gone off with Maz at Ahsoka’s suggestion, and Ahsoka hoped she wouldn’t take it as an insult. She’d been telling the truth when she pointed out that the cargo hold of the _Hawk_ was filled with ancient texts and scrolls of historical records that Barriss would be able to appreciate better than anyone else; but Ahsoka Tano was a realist, as well.

She _needed_ to get the Brethren Court behind her, or at least not actively opposed to her, before it was formally convened at sundown. She couldn’t bully Maul into submission or talk Aayla and Cham around with her lover at her side, an obvious vulnerability. She _wouldn’t_ expose Barriss as a target to people like Dooku and Talzin; they had long memories, dark imaginations, and nothing like mercy.

Ahsoka took a long, careful breath through her mouth and let it out slowly.

“Katooni,” she instructed Hondo’s bored-looking sidekick. “Keep watering down his rum.”

Katooni tossed off a sloppy imitation of a salute while Hondo spluttered in indignation. “Aye-aye, Captain Tano.” Then, in response to Hondo’s even more indignant spluttering: “What? _You’re_ not gonna support me to the Court when I depose you in ten years.”

“What!” He clasped his heart. “All this time! I take you in, I protect you, I _entrust_ you with the wellbeing of my fleet, and here! Already you openly plan to _betray_ me! I am so proud. This girl,” he added as an aside in Ahsoka’s general direction. “She is very funny. Ten years! _Ha!_ It will take her half of that.”

Ahsoka sighed.

“If you see Captain Ti…”

“You need to speak to her,” Katooni recited. “Got it.”

* * *

Barriss raised a hand over her head, ducking carefully under a low-hanging beam.

The hold of the _Ebon Hawk_ was drier and more open than she’d expected. Where the jagged fang of rock pierced her belly the gap had been carefully sealed with pitch; the space that would normally have been dedicated to oil and wine, weapons, food and textiles, silver and gold and the medicines that were even more precious, was filled instead with well-organized floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. There was nothing to be done about the sharp pitch of the deck underfoot, but by now Barriss had been at sea almost a year. She trusted herself on poor footing.

The moment that thought crossed her mind, her left leg twitched and contracted of its own accord. She tripped badly, lurching forward down the incline, and only managed to catch herself by stumbling face-first into a shelf.

Maz glanced over and sighed, shaking her head.

“Congratulations on getting your sea legs,” she said drily. “You don’t have much practice giving them back, do you, _Miss Offee?”_

Barriss made a face. “I suppose not. And you can call me what you like, ma’am.”

“Maz,” Maz corrected her. “Don’t _ma’am_ me, you’re not my crew.”

Barriss bit her tongue to control her reflexive _yes ma’am._ Maz’s lips twitched anyway.

Flustered and trying to cover the near slip, Barriss tested her weight on her legs again. She still felt unsteady, trying to adjust for rolling motion that wasn’t there. “No,” she said, hoping her discomfort wasn’t _too_ obvious. She tried for a self-deprecating smile. “I...don’t imagine a pirate lord of your caliber would have hired greenhorns. Captain Kanata.”

Maz tutted. “Oh, I trained a few hopeless cases in my time. We were all greenhorns once. The good captains never forget that.”

“What about the bad ones?” asked Barriss.

Without missing a beat, Maz shot back, “And how would I know? Ask that young punk Maul.”

She couldn’t hold back a smile. “Ahsoka doesn’t like him either.” Barriss didn’t quite make out Maz’s grumbling response. Before she could ask for it to be repeated, Maz snapped her fingers and tapped a cubbyhole.

“Ah!” she said. “Here we are.”

Barriss slung the ancient chart tube off her shoulder, carefully crossing the uneven floor. There was no label or number on the little division—a set of crisscrossing planks that she suspected had originally been a wine rack. In fact, the cubbyhole had several scraps of rumpled paper stuffed inside it already. What system did the pirates _use_ down here?

“Are you going to put that away, or just hold it?”

Barriss blinked in surprise. “An artifact this old?” she said. “I’d assumed it would need to be oiled properly.”

Maz smiled slowly. “Your mother taught you well.”

Barriss didn’t know how to respond to that. She was aware that news of her kidnapping and flyers offering a ransom for her return had spread through the Caribbean quickly—Captain Syndulla’s crew had recognized her from them, after all, and Hera had even promised to stop at Port Royal and _finally_ inform her mother that she was safe. It wasn’t impossible that Maz Kanata knew her surname and thus her family situation from that contact information.

But there was something...more, to the statement. Something a little too knowing.

“It, um.” Barriss gripped the chart case tightly. “It must take a great deal of study to learn the archives here.”

Maz laughed and leaned in conspiratorially. “Mostly,” she said, “It takes a lot of searching through random shelves until I remember where I last saw whatever I’m looking for.” She winked and waved a hand at the cluttered hold.

“I suppose that doubles as a security measure,” Barriss said thoughtfully. “If anyone wanted to steal something they would have to search every shelf, and it would take more time and be much more difficult to hide the fact that they’d been here.”

“Mmm. You may be giving us too much credit.” Maz squinted between two shelves. “I swear every Keeper of the Code since Revan herself has assumed the previous Keeper _must_ have had a good reason to keep everything where it is.”

That was an interesting thought. “There must have been some system that made sense to Revan, then,” Barriss said. “I wonder what trying to reverse-engineer that logic might tell us about the way she thought, or about the way the Brethren Court viewed the world back then…”

Maz looked at her for a long moment. “Hundreds of years of history in this room,” she finally said. “It’s not just the tome of the Code. Journals from old Keepers and pirate lords. Sketches of strange islands no one can identify. Old records of crew manifests and ship names, scraps of poetry, charts that haven’t been accurate for centuries. A few, I’m not even sure why we keep anymore; the others are of locations mentioned in maps or clues, some poems from the era. We need the historical charts—”

“To understand the references!” Barriss finished. “Of course, you would when underwater topography changes so often. A coded reference to a secret entrance from three hundred years ago might point you to a water passage that no longer exists. Is it possible the charts with no apparent importance might serve the same purpose, but the legends or riddles referencing them have been forgotten?"

Maz raised an eyebrow, and Barriss blushed at her interruption. Luckily, Captain Kanata didn’t seem offended.

“You have a head on your shoulders,” she noted. “If you survive this, you’re welcome on the _Ebon Hawk._ Maybe you could make some sense of the place. Least I can do for Tano.”

For a moment, the excitement of learning the pirates had an entire historical library tucked away in a hidden cove had driven all other concerns from Barriss’ mind. Maz Kanata’s strange wording and the grim implications behind it, however, could not be ignored.

Barriss swallowed. “You...make it sound as if Ahsoka couldn’t survive as well. Surely she has a better chance at survival than I do.”

Once again, Maz just...looked at her. The moment lasted too long to be comfortable.

“You know what she’s planning,” Barriss realized.

Maz sighed. “Young one,” she said. “When you have spent as much time as I have around these people, surrounded by this history, you learn to spot patterns as they repeat. Captain Tano knows how this story ends. There is only one way the Ferryman can be saved, and it will not be easy to convince the Court to allow her to do it.”

“Yes,” Barriss agreed. “His...the heart must be stolen back. Or at the very least it must be liberated from the Company. With the twins safe, they have no other hold on him. If we grant Skywalker his free will again, the crisis will be over, surely? Why would any pirate want the Ferryman of the Dead under the control of their enemies?”

Maz’s magnified gaze was pitying.

“If you fled to the sea to escape a life of politics, young one,” she said, “you may want to reconsider.”

 _Politics?_ Barriss frowned, opened her mouth to ask what she could possibly mean by that, then abruptly stopped and thought.

The politics of the Brethren Court. All right then, what would that consist of? All members had a vote, except Ahsoka, who could only vote in the event of a tie. Logic would dictate the best course of action as freeing Skywalker, who was the lynchpin in the East India Company’s plans. But bring in the human factor…

No, she still didn’t understand.

“You know how Anakin Skywalker became as he is,” said Maz, helping her out. “How do you think his excellency the Count feels, knowing into whose hands his immortal soul will fall if he dies at sea? Knowing how unlikely it is that the pirate lord Dooku will die peacefully in his bed?”

Dooku—the slaver, Barriss remembered, and her eyes widened.

“Some of them would rather have him dead,” she said slowly. “But Ahsoka said...there must always be a Ferryman. Whoever kills him has to take his place, don’t they?”

Maz inclined her head, magnified eyes solemn. “There will be four factions,” she said. “A few, if the Ferryman must die, will want the opportunity to kill him themselves. Talzin, certainly; Maul would want it for himself otherwise, but he will defer to the Dathomiri queen. Dooku, perhaps.” Maz’s voice was thoughtful. “I don’t think he’d want the Ferryman’s job for himself. Talzin has more use for the dead as restless spirits, Maul only wants immortality and the unkillable ship; but Dooku at least respects the Ferryman’s work, and it’s a thankless task that never ends. If I had to guess, and I do, he’ll want that second of his to do it—Ventress, nasty piece of work to command the _Twilight,_ that one.”

“She wants the power, like Maul,” Barriss guessed. “And he wants to be Speaker?”

There was a bit of uncertain humming before Maz shook her head. “I can’t imagine he would,” she decided. “I don’t see that man giving up a voting place on the court for a _less_ powerful position. No, Ventress will name her own representative, and Dooku will count on her loyalty granting him a tiebreaker guaranteed to support him.”

It made sense, which made Barriss uneasy. “Will anyone support them?”

 _“Ha!_ No. But that’s three votes against what Ahsoka will want. And that may be three votes she cannot afford to lose.”

Barriss knew what Ahsoka would want. “She wants to save her brother. Why would that be a hard sell? Surely reclaiming the heart is easiest.”

“Is it now?” Barriss tried not to take Maz’s obviously feigned innocence personally. She thought she was keeping up with all of this very well, all things considered! “And if something goes wrong? What if the heart is destroyed by a stray shot, and the new Ferryman is some poor gunner with a sweetheart and a life who never consented? What if we sink the ship we _think_ contains it only for the chest to be a decoy, or for it to be salvaged? Under the Company’s orders, I doubt Skywalker could warn us about the truth again. A captive Anakin Skywalker is dangerous; an Anakin Skywalker we only _think_ is free would be a thousand times more so.”

“It has to be worth the risk,” Barriss protested. “What alternative is there? Leave an innocent man in worse than slavery? And countless others? Without a true Ferryman we condemn the souls of all who die at sea. I don’t see much difference between letting one of the power-hungry captains steal the position and just letting the Company _keep_ it!”

 _Pirates,_ she suddenly remembered Hondo telling her, what felt like a hundred years ago, _are not fond of thinking too much about their immortal souls._

“Nor do many of the Court.” Maz’s voice was infuriatingly calm. “And so, some will vote against fighting at all.”

Barriss took a step back. “What?” she said. “You must be joking! Who could possibly be that—”

“Secura, and she’s not a fool. Syndulla. And Captain Ti will hear their arguments fairly and may be convinced.” Maz shrugged. “The Kraken is dead, and the Princess of the Dead Sea has returned to us, and that removes the two threats a pirate lord might have taken seriously. Pirates are not modest, and many believe that cunning, skill, and cannonfire can match the threat of the _Twilight.”_

That the Kraken would be their major concern was obvious enough, Barriss supposed, but she failed to see Ahsoka’s relevance. “Half of them hate her,” she said. “Why would they care—the tiebreaker.”

Maz smiled. It was a strained, unhappy expression. “Quite.”

“If the Ferryman’s speaker was dead, he would have the right to appoint a new one, wouldn’t he?” Barriss’ mind was racing. “And since he’s unable to make his own decisions...yes, all right, even a pirate would recognize the threat of a Company plant having a tiebreaker vote on the Court. It would destroy the Brethren forever.”

“The Brethren Court allows us to exist in this world together. It gives us strength in numbers when necessary, and prevents us from destroying one another utterly. If the East India Trading Company were able to place a representative in Captain Tano’s place, the Court would become a joke. It could never convene again, and any agreements controlled by it would be meaningless. Not that it would matter,” Maz acknowledged, “because the new speaker would tell the Navy where to find us the moment he received that information from Skywalker.”

Barriss thought about that for a moment, swallowed carefully, and thought about it for several more moments before clearing her throat.

“And...what, exactly,” she said slowly, “is preventing Skywalker from telling them where we are right now?”

Captain Maz Kanata was stronger than she looked. The pitying hand on Barriss’ shoulder was like wrinkled iron.

The silence of the hold was profound.

“What will she do, then?” Barriss’ voice was above a whisper, but only just.

“That one," Maz said, "Will do what she must. The Court won’t allow any of the power-seekers to claim the right of kill; destroying the heart without evidence is unacceptable. So, you tell me, Barriss Offee. Knowing what hangs in the balance, without enough confidence in her thievery skills to carry a vote. What will she do?”

Barriss legs were shaking again, and this time she couldn’t write it off as her body adjusting to dry land. She knew exactly how far Ahsoka was willing to go, if she had to. She’d done it before. Barriss had lit the fuse herself.

Maz squeezed her shoulder, too gentle.

“Solo puts the enemy fleet a day and a half from us,” she said. “And that was before the wind changed in their favor. Go on.” She didn’t say _while you can;_ Barriss could hear it anyway.

It felt like surrender, somehow, silently handing the battered map case over and stumbling up the tilted deck toward the stairs. Part of Barriss wanted to...batten down the hatches, which was a term she finally understood the meaning of after weathering a storm at sea. Seal up her sudden unstable emotions, take a deep breath the way her mother had taught her, and calmly continue assisting Maz until the Court was convened.

But Ahsoka said she had the sea in her blood, and the sea could only be what it was, and Barriss was in love and she was afraid. And she could tack into the wind if she had to but she was so _tired_ of resisting what she was, and for once she wasn’t going to fight it. Surely she was legally considered a pirate by now, so for _once,_ she was going to chase what she wanted even if the consequences were dire and her metaphors were getting hopelessly mixed.

For all her years of experience, she and Ahsoka had started this journey together, and sworn each other the time they had left. Barriss intended to see it through.

Her steps echoed too loudly on the old wooden steps. Even if they hadn’t, she would never have heard the carefully muffled sound of a small body sliding down the outside of the hull.

Ezra Bridger rolled rather than try to stick the landing, and waited several seconds to be absolutely certain his feet hadn’t made any noise on the hard black stone of the island. Satisfied, he straightened and brushed splinters off his sleeves.

He’d heard everything he needed to know.

Apparently, Ahsoka needed a thief.

* * *

Ahsoka needed a freaking drink.

The only thing harder than convincing a group of pirates to vote against their immediate self-interest, however, was making convincing arguments while downing moonshine. Probably. Hondo was testing her trust in Anakin’s old teachings.

 _Have a drink if you want one, Snips,_ he’d always said. _But only if you want one, and not more than you can handle. You can’t dodge patrols with a hangover, and if you’re fighting drunk you’re fighting stupid._

 _Yeah, Anakin, I know,_ she’d said a thousand times. _And we stay alive because doing things stupid is other people’s job._

She had to smile, a little bitterly.

 _Sorry, Skyguy. I think I’m about to do something stupid._ But he’d started it, so whose fault was this, really?

“Look,” she said. “I know the metaphysical stuff doesn’t seem to matter much right now, but trust me, the Land of the Dead is real.”

“And we’re not there yet.” Aayla Secura wasn’t unreasonable most of the time, Ahsoka thought with irritation. But she was a realist, and in this case, she thought she was doing what was right. “Don’t misunderstand me. I know what happens to souls that have been abandoned. I’m not proposing we ignore the danger. But this is not the time. Takodana is no longer safe; we should run now. Scatter, let them find an empty island, and reassess from a place of strength.”

She was _so close_ to being right, that was the frustrating thing. But Aayla had never crewed the _Twilight._ She didn’t understand that there _was_ no such thing as secrecy, not against Anakin.

“I understand your concerns,” she said. “But if we scatter, he _will_ be able to find us, and they’ll only pick us off at leisure. We have numbers now, and we know they’re coming. If we tie the _Twilight_ up in fighting, the Company will have to _let_ him fight. It could be the perfect distraction to let us—”

“Ahsoka.” This time it was General Ti, and her voice was gentle. “I understand that your priority is your brother’s life. But the risk…”

“The Ferryman is a member of this Court, and has done nothing to earn betrayal,” _Tranquility_ ’s captain agreed quietly. “And I disagree with Captain Secura’s suggestion that we run. But I hesitate to waste time on a boarding action.”

Ahsoka wanted to scream, but she couldn’t pretend they were being unreasonable.

“I would never gamble with the fate of the world,” she said. “I’m not asking the Brethren to risk everything to save Anakin’s life.”

“Mmm,” said Hondo, peering into an empty gin bottle. “You _kind_ of are, Ahsoka my dear. There is _nothing_ in this,” he added, tossing the bottle aside. It hit Maul’s brother in the back of the head. _“Scandalous,_ child. They sell _defective bottles_ these days!”

“I’m not,” Ahsoka insisted. “Katooni, seriously, cut him off, Savage is gonna kill him if he does that again and I need his vote. General Ti, all I’m asking for is a chance. Let me try to reclaim the heart. If it doesn’t work, then...then we revert to whichever plan the Court chooses. But let me _try.”_

Aayla shook her head slightly, though she at least had the decency to look regretful. But Shaak Ti at least was considering it, and Ahsoka felt a small spike of hope.

The General spoke after a moment.

“I do respect the Ferryman,” she said. “And I respect your skills, Captain Tano. I only hope you understand that I cannot risk the lives of my men for the life of your brother without good reason.”

Ahsoka dipped her head.

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” she said quietly.

“What was that?” asked Hondo.

 _“I said I wouldn’t ask you to!”_ Ahsoka repeated, loudly, over the general clamor of the room.

 _Tranquility_ ’s captain gave a small smile.

“I share your sentiment, General,” she said, with a respectful nod to Ti. “But I would add that I have no objection to taking on additional risk in order to free Skywalker. He is a friend and ally, and a Pirate Lord; and more than that, I cannot stomach the prospect of allowing a man to be stripped of his free will and not attempting to free him. My concern is that numbers will be on the Navy’s side.”

Ahsoka winced. She’d been afraid of this argument, because it was true. Her stomach twisted.

_I’m sorry, Skyguy. I’m trying._

“I understand, Your Grace.”

The Pirate Queen of the Spanish Main wore a pained, compassionate expression. “We will already have inferior forces,” she said. “Added to that, half of those forces despise the other half, and all have their own agendas; our discipline as a unit will be compromised. With those factors to overcome, I struggle to tactically justify spending any amount of time failing to attack in earnest. We will lose men and ships too quickly.”

Ahsoka closed her eyes.

“I understand,” she repeated. General Ti squeezed her shoulder.

“We will consider your position,” she said, as kind a rejection as she could offer. “If you can find a way to minimize the risk to the rest of the fleet, nothing would make me happier than to vote in your favor. I believe you deserve a chance, after everything you have already suffered—”

“Suffered!” Hondo whooped. Ahsoka glared at him. “Aaaah, General. This is not what _Hondo_ remembers!”

“I got eaten by a Kraken, Hondo,” Ahsoka snapped.

Hondo chuckled to himself. “Yes, yes. I am sure this was very stressful for you. But! If I am recalling correctly, which it is possible I am not, because I am _very_ drunk—”

“What else is new.”

Hondo either didn’t hear her or didn’t care. “I seem to remember that you went on a romantic rowboat to a lovely island cove with a _very_ lovely young girl, while _certain pirates_ were boldly battling the great leviathan! Cannons roared! Swords flashed! The air was thick with smoke and the decks slick with the blood of the great beast! The cannons...Katooni! Remind me what it is that cannons do!”

“I think they roar,” said Katooni.

“They do!” Hondo exclaimed. “I _wish_ I had thought of that. But of course, I can understand how you might _forget_ this daring action, distracted by thoughts of, ah,” he sniffed. “The romance of...romantic things. Compromising positions on beaches, eh, Ahsoka?”

Ahsoka knew from having this conversation at least five times in the years she had known Hondo that telling him to shut up would only ensure he kept at it for the next hour. So, instead, she forced her anxiety about Anakin aside and managed an almost genuine smirk.

“Hey,” she said. “Don’t blame me. When was the last time _you_ ended up in a compromising position on a beach off Tortuga? Someone was even nice enough to make sure we had some rum. Best marooning of her life.”

Thank God, the indignation of wondering whether Ahsoka really had found and pilfered his stash distracted Hondo, and he tapered off into muttering.

She breathed out very slowly.

“Captains,” she said with a bow slightly lower than courtesy strictly demanded. “Thank you for your time. I can’t ask you to vote anything but your own best judgement. But please. I’ve been a pirate for longer than you’ve been alive, and a smuggler for longer than that. Give me a chance. I won’t waste—oh, hey there, kitten!”

Barriss looked pale, and so tense it made Ahsoka’s shoulders ache; but she managed a weak smile when Ahsoka offered her a hand, and Aayla stepped aside to admit her into the circle.

To Ahsoka’s shock, Barriss—who normally refrained from anything that could possibly be called demonstrative, and was so uneasy in public—turned the greeting into a tight hug. Ahsoka’s arms circled her waist instinctively, and just for a moment, felt her trembling. The moment of weakness passed quickly; but Barriss still clung to her for several long heartbeats before relaxing her grip.

 _What the hell did Maz say to you, kitten?_ Or worse, she hadn’t met Maul on her way across the room, had she? Ahsoka was going to _kill_ him.

For the moment, however, she’d be a terrible partner and a worse captain if she let any awkwardness creep in; these were good people, but they were pirates, and there were eyes everywhere. You couldn’t afford to lose face in the Brethren Court.

So instead of drawing Barriss away and brushing her hair out of her face, stroking her jaw, and coaxing her into confessing what had her so upset, Ahsoka smiled and gestured around the circle.

“Hondo you know,” she said, giving Barriss a few seconds to adjust and reposition herself at Ahsoka’s side. “Aayla Secura, captain of the _Liberty._ Commands _Intrepid_ and _Venator.”_

Whatever had put that distant, painful look on Barriss’ face was at least temporarily banished at the name. She straightened, eyes narrowing, as she focused on the slim French captain.

“Ah,” she said shortly.

Aayla made a face. “I see. Captain Tano…?”

“Aayla didn’t try to kidnap you,” Ahsoka explained quickly. “She had the _Resolute_ stolen a few months after she stole it from me. Same method too, if I recall.”

Aayla made a sour expression. “Yes, yes, very funny. I’d never met Aurra Sing in person.”

This time Ahsoka’s smugness wasn’t feigned. “How’s it feel having a clever second mate turn out to be an enemy captain just waiting for her chance to mutiny and steal your ship?”

“Weren’t you trying to get me on your side?” Aayla retorted.

Shaak Ti stepped in. “If you fear running into Sing here, Miss Offee, be at peace. The Brethren Court is bound by a Code she does not follow.”

Ahsoka appreciated her intervention; it was impossible to be uncomfortable around the General, if you’d done nothing wrong. Even her ships had that effect. Barriss had actually grinned when she saw them; a quartet of clean, pretty little brigs with their cheerful blue-and-white striped sails. _Bravo, Domino, Castoff, Cadet_ —General Ti loved them and they loved her back.

Most of her crew were refugees of some kind; some escaped slaves, some men and women who’d stood up to the wrong official. Some who merely loved the wrong people. If you could find your way to Shaak Ti, you were safe. And if you could sail worth a damn, you were home.

Ahsoka wasn’t the only one who dearly wanted to watch _Tyrant_ burn.

“We wouldn’t shelter someone like Aurra Sing,” she assured Barriss softly. “We have laws. She doesn’t.” When there was no response, she extended a hand instead toward her friend. “This is General Shaak Ti, you saw her fleet on the way in. If you ever need protection and I’m not around, find her.”

“You honor me,” General Ti murmured with a polite bow in Barriss’ direction. “As I am honored to meet you, Barriss Offee. Not since Revan has anyone navigated the passage to the World Beyond and returned. That you managed it so young, and with so little experience, is a marvel.”

After a moment, Ahsoka felt her stomach lurch. It took her another moment to realize why—Barriss had not so much as acknowledged the compliment. For Barriss of all people to ignore basic courtesy so completely—

“Kitten? You okay?”

Stupid question, considering a single glance at Barriss’ face said that the answer was an emphatic no.

Ahsoka followed the line of Barriss’ wide-eyed, trembling stare and found nothing. _Tranquility_ was impressive, and her captain’s reputation preceded her, but she really doubted whether the woman was capable of inspiring this much terror at a single glance...

“Barriss?” she tried again. “All right, you need to sit down—”

Barriss’ grip on Ahsoka’s arm tightened convulsively, the nails nearly drawing blood.

Her throat worked for several long moments before she managed to speak.

“...Mother.”

Oh.

 _Oh._ Oh, the worst part was that Ahsoka could see it, and now that she looked, Captain Unduli’s expression was the same mixture of panic and heartbreak as—as her daughter’s.

Even Hondo was speechless as they stared at each other. And then, finally, very slowly, Unduli dragged her gaze away from Barriss’ face and turned to face Ahsoka.

Ahsoka tried to take a deep breath and managed a strangled wheezing sound.

“Did, uh,” she said nervously. “Did I say a beach…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize this chapter was a lot of talking and exposition. But I know what I want to accomplish with the finale, and I want to take the time to set it up properly and give it the space to breathe.


	5. A Touch Of Destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! First of all, I want to thank all of you for sticking around through this story. I've had the time of my life writing it, and it's been incredibly rewarding seeing how you responded! For this finale, there's some hard and fast action sequences. To make sure all of my incredible readers can get as much out of them as possible, I'm including this little pocket dictionary of terminology that you'd lose out by not knowing.
> 
> **Bow:**  The front of a ship. Things near the bow are "fore," or in front of, the main mast.  
>  **Stern:**  The back of a ship. Things near the stern are "aft".  
>   
>  **Port:** Standing in the center of a ship facing the bow, the left side of the ship.  
>  **Starboard:** Standing in the center of a ship facing the bow, the right side of the ship.  
>  Why "port" and "starboard" instead of just "left" and "right"? Well, if I tell you to hand me the object on the left, your first question is probably "your left or my left?" That's the kind of ambiguity that can cause disaster at sea. The port side of a ship is ALWAYS the port side of a ship, no matter where you stand or what direction you're facing. It prevents miscommunications!  
>   
>  **Tack:**  To turn through the direction of the wind while facing into it.  
>  **Jibe:**  To turn through the direction of the wind while facing away from it. Also spelled "gybe".  
> For example: Say the wind is blowing from due North. If you were sailing northwest and turned to sail northeast instead, with the bow of the ship moving NW > N > NE so that the wind was temporarily right in front of you, that would be tacking. If you were sailing southwest and turned to sail southeast, with your bow going SW > S > SE so that the wind was temporarily directly behind you, that would be a jibe. In both cases, the sails "switch sides," moving from filling on one side of the mast to the other. Because tacking naturally slows and temporarily stops a ship as it moves "through" the wind, and a jibe retains full wind power throughout the maneuver, tacking is generally regarded as easier to do safely.
> 
>  **Windward:** Whichever side of the boat the wind is currently hitting  
>  **Leeward:** Whichever side of the boat is currently sheltered from the wind  
>  **Heeling:** Sailboats naturally “lean” slightly away from the force of the wind; this is the natural way for a sailing ship to ride in the water, and the windward side will always be slightly higher than the leeward side while the ship is moving.
> 
> That should be everything! If there are other terms you don't recognize feel free to look them up; these are just the ones feedback from non-sailing friends suggested were most likely to break immersion for anyone who didn't know them. Thank you again, so much, for your support; and special thanks to Alex (Kablob) for being kind enough to beta this finale, which was WAY too unwieldy for me to handle alone. I hope you enjoy this final installment!

A bottle smashed inside. Barriss ignored it.

The crew deck of the _Ebon Hawk_ had been carefully converted over the millennia to better serve as the heart of the Court. Unlike the records library in its belly, there was no sharp tilt to the deck; the floorboards had been carefully removed, new support beams laid within the bones of the great galleon, and a new, level floor laid in. The ceiling did slope at one end of the long conference table, but that was the only inconvenience.

Barriss suspected the reason for the remodelling was probably that the Court had gotten tired of rum-soaked, slurring pirates stumbling wildly down the incline.

It was a cynical, uncharitable theory, yes. But she was in no mood to be charitable at the moment.

She’d slipped out of the _Hawk_ once the Court was formally convened. Care had been taken in gutting the interior of the ship not to disturb its appearance; the main deck still tilted wildly toward the sky, but with her arms crossed and hooked over the rail she barely noticed. It was quieter out here, and she needed to breathe. Needed the fresh air, the taste of salt, and the quiet rush of the waves.

The cedar planks creaked behind her. She swallowed painfully.

“Please,” she whispered. “Leave me alone.”

Her mother didn’t listen. The quiet footsteps continued up the deck until Luminara was resting against the rail beside her. Close enough to touch. Barriss swallowed again.

She had an absurd urge to apologize for running away, for not contacting home, for not returning to Port Royal when she had the chance. Part of her wanted to scream into the awkward silence; the rest wanted but refused to be happy to see her mother again.

“Aren’t you needed for the vote?”

Another bottle smashed below them. There was a scream and a splash as someone was flung out an open gunport.

“Not for some time,” Luminara answered. “Though I am impressed by Ahsoka’s control. The summit is proceeding much more smoothly than usual.”

More silence. Barriss choked silently on her emotions, listening to the waves. When she finally managed to speak, her voice was not nearly as steady as she tried to make it.

 _“Unduli?”_ she asked in a whisper.

Her mother gave a soft sigh.

“You’ve heard of me, I take it.”

Barriss’ laugh was short and bitter. _“Heard of you?_ Captain Unduli, the most infamous pirate queen in modern history? The terror of the Spanish Main who reached the height of her power and then vanished with the bulk of her riches, leaving no trace? Yes, I’ve _heard_ of you.”

“Well,” her mother began modestly. “I don’t know that I’d call myself the _most—”_

Barriss’ glare was poison.

“...That description is not inaccurate,” Luminara said instead.

For a long time Barriss watched slanting daggers of moonlight flicker off the waves. _Like stars,_ she might have thought once, appreciating the bright, hopeful beauty of those dancing flecks of light surrounded by the blackness of the cavern. Tonight she thought: _Like broken glass._ With no way to know how many more blood-piercing shards waited in the shadows.

After a moment, Luminara shifted. A pale object was extended in Barriss’ direction; gently, politely, without intruding into her personal space. Barriss’ throat tightened.

It was a two-foot length of soft rope. Not the coarse, strong type that would be used as ship line, but an almost silky white-cotton rope with a loose bowline knot tied in the middle. Barriss had kept a length of rope just like this on her person since...as long as she could remember. A good way to work out nervous energy, her mother had told her once, as a child. Your father taught me this one...

So Barriss had learned common sailors’ knots sitting at her mother’s feet, and kept that scrap of silken rope in her pocket ever since. She had fallen out of the habit as she grew up and it began to be seen less as a child’s harmless habit and more of a social faux pas by a young woman, but it had stayed in her bedside table. When she was nervous or restless it helped, having something to do with her hands.

The knotwork had served her well on _Fulcrum,_ allowed her to be more useful than she’d anticipated, Ahsoka had been impressed—

She’d been so stupid. There had been so many signs.

“My father,” she said finally.

Luminara was suddenly very still.

Barriss closed her eyes. Her fingers tightened on the white line; she hadn’t even meant to take it.

“Did a man named Percival Offee ever really exist?” she whispered.

There was a long silence. Barriss plucked the bowline knot free and began to retie it into a stopper.

“I was twelve when I went to sea for the first time,” her mother finally said, softly. “I hadn’t learned yet to always choose a pseudonym similar enough to my name that I would respond to it. I called myself Jack and fooled no one, but the captain had a good heart. The lessons you learned as a girl were the ones he taught me. She was a good ship with a good master. A collier named _Persimmon.”_ She paused and glanced over.

“Percy,” murmured Barriss.

Her mother inclined her head and added, “Offee was my grandmother’s maiden name.”

Barriss carefully untied her stopper knot, flicked the length of rope to eliminate any kinks, and brought the ends together in a quick, sloppy sheet bend. Her mother...respected her silence, while she processed what she’d heard.

The merchant captain who’d died before she was born had never existed; the little details, stories her mother had told, traditions and practices she’d claimed “your father taught me,” Barriss had already accepted were likely Luminara’s own. But there were some things…

She’d _respected_ the bond between her parents. She had _believed_ her mother’s husband had loved her as a kindred spirit, that he had been mourned, that she had some place in the world. _Barriss_ had mourned him, or at least mourned his memory. The quiet way her mother spoke of him, the distant look in her eyes and the fond smile she always wore, like a private memory—or a private joke. Barriss had wished he was still alive. She’d wished she had known him.

She tied and untied a figure-eight, a reef knot, and a clove hitch around the railing before she felt ready to speak again, and by then her hands were shaking too hard to finish her second bowline.

“Who was…?”

Her mother didn’t answer. Barriss finally looked over; she expected pain, or mournfulness, or even shame. She could process those things.

Luminara’s eyes were wide, and she was suddenly, studiously avoiding eye contact.

“..Mother?”

“You always did ask very good questions, Barriss.”

Barriss’ eyes narrowed slightly. “Mother,” she repeated. “Who was my father?”

“I…” Luminara sighed and glanced around cagily. “I will admit I’ve occasionally run the numbers…”

Barriss had already given a despairing whimper before she could catch herself. Her mother winced.

“We had recently...come to certain agreements, with a local governor,” she said. “The atmosphere that week was one of celebration, and…”

“I take it back,” said Barriss. “I take it back, mother, I don’t want to know.”

“Whoever he was…”

_“Mother!”_

Luminara looked pained. After a moment, she continued.

“Whoever he was,” she said quietly, “I trusted him. With myself, but not with you. The fleet was no place for a child.”

 _Disappeared with the bulk of her fortune,_ Barriss thought through the crushing discomfort. Certainly enough to afford false documents, enough to set up comfortably in England, enough to bring her young daughter to the colonies twelve years later, where it was easier to be an unknown and the pirate trade was stronger than ever…

She wondered how long her mother had waited before writing her off as dead and returning to the life she’d clearly always wanted.

“I am...so proud of you, Barriss.” Luminara’s voice was hesitant. “That you found your way in the world. I can scarcely believe you’re the same little girl I worried over for all these years.”

Barriss have a thin smile. _“Proud?_ Why?” The question was acid on her tongue. “I only did what I’ve obviously been groomed for since—”

_“No.”_

The harshness jerked Barriss straight. Her mother was already bringing herself back under control; the flare of anger was uncharacteristic, but that in itself was significant.

“No,” Luminara repeated. “Barriss, I have never wanted any life for you but the one you chose; all that mattered was that the decision would be yours alone. Raised to a normal life you could always choose the sea. But born a pirate…” She shook her head. “I had no right to do that to a child. I had every intention of leaving my fleet under Mr. Gree’s capable command, until you disappeared a year ago.”

Barriss blinked. Her mother smiled grimly.

“Every indication was that you had been kidnapped,” she said, “I took matters rather into my own hands. I would not leave an _enemy_ to the mercy of Aurra Sing.”

“I gather she’s not associated with the Brethren.”

Her mother’s eyes briefly clouded. “There are worse than her—but not many. If it _had_ been Captain Secura who captured you I would have received a ransom demand for your safe return; you would at worst have been shot, and then only if I refused to consider any negotiation. Aurra Sing would have sent a ransom note along with your bloodstained clothes, and even were it paid immediately and in full you would not have left that ship intact.” Barriss blanched, and Luminara finally reached out to run a hand over Barriss’ shoulder. “You understand why I could not simply wait.”

“You knew she has the _Resolute?”_

For the first time, her mother gave a genuine smile. “My sources are somewhat more extensive than Ahsoka Tano’s. And she _had_ the _Resolute,_ Barriss, do keep up.” Apparently Barriss’ flash of irritation showed on her face, because Luminara held her hands up in apology for the teasing. Barriss wasn’t prepared to be that familiar again, not...not yet.

“Well,” she said. “It’s a good thing Ahsoka’s attempts to get me back to Port Royal failed. You would have been gone.” _And I probably would have been arrested for being the daughter of a notorious criminal._

Luminara frowned and made an aborted half-gesture, as if she had wanted to place a hand on Barriss’ cheek and thought better of it. “I only returned to _Tranquility_ when the summons came; as a member of the Court I had no choice. I had never formally surrendered the title of Pirate Lord to Mr. Gree, only command of the fleet. I offered; he did not accept. I waited as long as I possibly could.”

“Oh,” said Barriss. There didn’t seem to be much else to say.

Her mother brushed Barriss’ hair behind her ear. “I...returned to England,” she said carefully. “Overwhelmed with grief. All the Navy in the area knows your name, and I left people capable of contacting me. I have not and will never take chances with your life, Barriss.”

Barriss swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded mutely.

A slightly cool arch of an eyebrow. “That seems to be Captain Tano’s job now.”

“Stop,” Barriss said irritably. She almost pushed her mother’s hand away but couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. “Ahsoka more than made up for the... _impropriety_ of our first meeting when she rescued me from Aurra Sing’s men, and has been nothing but a gentleman since. She’s kept me as safe as she could. Any risks I may have taken have been my own.”

There was a pause.

“The impropriety of your first meeting,” her mother said slowly. “And this consisted of _what,_ precise—”

“What was my father’s name again?” Barriss asked as sweetly as she could manage.

Luminara’s eyebrows flew into her hair, and she fixed a familiar look of stern disapproval on her daughter; but Barriss was certain that just for a moment her lips had twitched.

“Very well,” she murmured. “A ceasefire. I can at least assure you that I don’t intend to make you bring Ahsoka Tano back from the dead a second time.”

“It—it really wasn’t like that,” Barriss protested, but at that moment a hatch folded open in the deck below them.

“Hey, Luminara.” Captain Secura’s first mate stuck his head out of the hatch. “Maul’s pushing for a vote. You’d better get down here.”

* * *

In civilized company and high-stakes negotiations, Luminara Unduli commanded respect. Brethren, rogues, and honest merchants alike parted around her; even Maul and his gang of murderers knew better than to openly disrespect her.

They were well past civilized company now, however, and Barriss followed close in her mother’s wake as Luminara shoved and elbowed her way through the dense crowd of shouting pirates.

“What business is it of ours?” yelled one man.

“Myths and legends!” a woman agreed. “A fair wind and an open sea and we’ll face our enemies on our own terms!”

Luminara stopped halfway down the long conference table, quietly taking the place of a bald man wearing a green bandana. He stared at Barriss for longer than was necessary before apparently remembering himself and giving a shallow bow.

“My friends.” That was Dooku, standing and holding his hands up. “I am forced to acknowledge that General Ti is correct in her assessment. I accept that assigning a single force the task of finding and destroying the heart carries too much risk of failure. We cannot afford to fail. Therefore, let the Brethren kill as kill can—”

“What, are you _volunteering?”_ Ahsoka demanded over the background noise. “Whoever takes that task _has_ to understand what it means, or we’ll do more harm than—”

Another of the Pirate Lords stood, further down the table. “What I want to know is why there is so much focus on this heart at all!”

The shouting started up again. The man at Luminara’s side—Gree, she recalled, her mother’s loyal lieutenant—leaned over to speak into Barriss’ ear.

“Cham Syndulla,” he said in an undertone. Barriss’ interest sharpened; she could see the family resemblance, just barely, and wondered what had happened between him and his daughter to give Hera such a low opinion of pirates. “He’s realized he can’t carry a vote to regroup and he’s been trying to do damage control.”

“Yes, the heart is a vulnerability,” Syndulla was saying. “But you yourself, Captain Tano, acknowledge that the ferryman and his crew are no more immortal than I am! Why is our focus not simply on bringing the _Twilight_ to battle and eliminating him?”

“Not all of us are afraid of an honest battle,” snapped a woman Barriss couldn’t see through the crowd. “If I didn’t know better, _Captain_ Syndulla, I’d say—”

Her voice cut off quickly, and Gree shook his head. Seeing Barriss’ confusion, he leaned down again.

“Leia,” he told her by way of explanation.

“Skywalker’s daughter?”

Gree nodded. “She shouldn’t have interfered; she’s not a member of the Court, and she’s supposed to be under your girl’s banner. Speaking out of turn undermines Tano’s authority. Maz got her under control, but we’ll see whether it was fast enough.”

Barriss nodded curtly and decided she’d had enough of being crushed in the press of her mother’s crew.

“I thought of that,” Ahsoka said as Barriss held her breath and sidled between two pirates, attempting to make her way up the table. “The fact is, I don’t know for certain how immortal Anakin might be at this point. Anakin doesn’t even know.”

“By which you mean,” observed a woman Barriss could only assume was Mother Talzin, the Pirate Queen of Dathomir, “He did not tell you.”

“If he knew, the Company’s chains were too tight for him to say so.”

Barriss had run into a thoroughly foreseen problem. Her mother’s own men were neither stupid nor suicidal and thus had kept their hands to themselves as she made her way through the crowd; most of Talzin’s crew felt no need to show the same restraint, and the chamber was packed too tightly to avoid them.

She snagged a dagger from the belt of a man paying attention to the actual proceedings and tried to listen to what was going on.

“We don’t know for certain whether his mortality was affected by the...the heart incident,” Ahsoka said as Barriss jabbed the tip of her blade into a hand attempting to slip under her shirt. “Traditionally, the Ferryman could be killed just like any other man. But as long as your heart is beating, most people would say you’re still technically alive. I don’t know if just…”

Her voice had wavered dangerously on that last, and Barriss shoved her way through the last of Hondo’s people as Rex stepped forward to finish the thought.

“It may not be as simple as shooting him or stabbing him,” Ahsoka’s first mate and Anakin’s best friend said with unnatural calm. “Not anymore. We don’t know for certain whether what would normally be a fatal injury will stop the heart from beating. And because of that, we can’t afford to take chances.”

“Not with this,” Ahsoka agreed quietly.

After a brief silence, Maz hummed.

“I’ve heard enough,” she said. “If no Pirate Lord has any viable alternatives, I suggest you vote _before_ the Royal Navy comes bursting into Shipwreck Cove with cannons blazing. But what would I know.”

There was a low swell of rumbling, and then Cham Syndulla stood up and placed his hands on the table.

“I am no coward,” he said firmly. “But allowing the enemy to decide the time and place of their attack is foolish. I say we divide their forces, and then regroup. Face the Navy, the Company, and the Ferryman on _our_ terms, not theirs.”

“Seconded.” Aayla Secura stood. “We _will_ face them, and my ships will fight as fiercely as anyone’s. But I vote we slip away under cover of darkness, tonight, and arrange a time and place to meet that is less conspicuous.”

There was a low, dark chuckle from a place halfway down the table; Barriss’ spine prickled as she recognized Talzin’s rasp; but it was Dooku who spoke.

“For two bold captains who are not cowards,” he said, “You are quick to counsel cowardice. We have the might of the full Court, knowledge of the precise timing of the enemy’s attack, and have never been better supplied than here, where our adversary must waste energy and resources coming to us. I see no reason why we should not use those advantages and deal a crushing blow to the Royal Navy while we can.”

Barriss noted that he carefully avoided any mention of Anakin Skywalker, or the power to be gained by killing him.

Now Talzin spoke. “The Dathomiri fleet fears no navy. _Twilight_ is a single sloop; you shame yourselves trembling in fear of her. Leave the corpse of a smuggler’s jade to us.” There were disdainful hisses and a few muted jeers from the men and women surrounding her. “We face our enemies tomorrow.”

“General Ti,” said Maz. “Your vote?”

Shaak Ti tapped a fingernail against the battered table.

“There are merits to the argument of regrouping,” she said slowly. Barriss, standing against the back wall, saw Ahsoka’s shoulders tighten. “However, our priority must be the Ferryman’s freedom. All-out war against the Royal Navy, for war’s sake, is beyond the scope of this meeting. My vote is in favor of Captain Tano’s boarding action.”

Ahsoka slumped against the table in relief.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

General Ti held up a hand. “Understand me,” she said calmly over conversation that had threatened to break into a clamor. “I vote in favor of giving the Captain a chance. If it is determined that the attempt has failed, we will already have committed to a battle, and the attack must shift to a full offensive.”

“Yes,” a man said slowly, near the end of the table. Ahsoka tensed again, and Barriss took half a step closer to her on instinct; Jesse, feeling her brush against him, looked down and gave a terse smile before shifting to allow her freer movement.

Ahsoka was wary of Talzin, despised Dooku; but she was _afraid_ of Maul, and given the kind of man it would take to willingly adopt such a name, Barriss was reasonably certain the fear was justified. She certainly felt the hair on the back of her neck standing up listening to the man speak. His voice was soft, barely more than a whisper; but there was something dark in his overly deliberate movements. Something unstable and deadly.

“Yes,” he repeated, dragging the word out too long. “Yes, certainly, but why should we wait? Why should _we_ flee, with a fortress to our backs? Why waste time with trickery and thievery, when there will never be a better time to destroy _all_ our enemies in one fell swoop? Mother Talzin speaks correctly, my friends. This _Twilight_ is only a single ship, once you see it in the daylight! We must fight, not be ruled by superstitious fear! Let who can kill the Ferryman do so; our focus should be on our _enemies.”_

“Captain Ohnaka,” Maz said evenly.

There was tension in every line of Ahsoka’s body as Barriss hesitantly moved to her side. And no wonder. With Maul’s vote there were three in favor of all-out assault, two in favor of running, and only a single vote supporting her. Barriss folded her hands behind her back to resist the urge to squeeze Ahsoka’s arm; losing face before the entire Court would doom them both in time.

If anyone voted against her _now_ …

There was a loud, gonglike ring as Hondo attempted to stand and fell facefirst into an empty serving bowl.

“Ah!” he exclaimed once Katooni and a handful of pirates from _Florrum_ had hauled him back onto his feet.. “My friends, my friends. So long! And _none_ of you have so much as sent a card to see how Hondo is doing.”

Maz sighed. “Hondo…”

“Yes, yes.” He waved her off. “But why, I ask you, are the, ah.” A sniff. “Noble captains of our number...suddenly so confident in our lines of communication? Hmm? Captain Secura! I am surprised you are still alive! Here I thought I would not have to pay you back after all. But now, I am supposed to believe that we will all show up at the same place, _without_ the compulsion of the summons of the Court, _just_ because we said we would! A bunch of pirates! You will all forgive me—I hope, I hope—if I am a little, how do I put this. Skeptical.”

Cham Syndulla rolled his eyes so hard that Barriss could see it from the opposite end of the table.

“I am surprised to find you voting with us,” Dooku observed stiffly. “It has been my experience that you will always be _eager_ to run from a fight.”

Hondo gasped in exaggerated shock, clapping a hand to his chest with enough force that he almost stumbled off his feet until Katooni poked him in the back.

“I have _never!”_ he exclaimed, in the tone of a man mortally wounded. _“_ You see my friends!” He turned to gesture toward a vague section of crowd that did not seem particularly friendly. “This is what Hondo is talking about! These ones want to run, these ones think only of going to war for glory, and where, I ask you, is the honest pirating? _Hondo Ohnaka_ embraces only the oldest and noblest of pirate traditions! And so must we all! We must _fight!_ To _run away.”_

There was a slight pause.

“You vote in favor of allowing Captain Tano to reclaim the heart?” Maz asked carefully.

“But of course! Tactical advantage, strategy, regrouping, _strike a blow to the heart of the enemy!”_ At that last item, Ahsoka’s lips twitched, and Barriss didn’t blame her; Hondo’s impression of Dooku was surprisingly accurate. “We are _pirates!”_ he exclaimed. _“Board_ the ship, _take_ the treasure, _escape_ with our lives! This is what pirates do!”

“The fact that Tano will be the one running most of the risk has nothing to do with it,” Secura observed drily.

“That has everything to do with it!” a cheerful Hondo countered. “The best plan is one in which someone _else_ is in danger!”

Maz rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“Mmm. Captain Unduli, your— _shut up, Hondo._ Your vote, Captain.”

Luminara glanced up the table. Ahsoka’s knuckles were white where her fingernails dug into the edge of the ancient wood. Barriss met her mother’s gaze with no change of expression.

After a moment, Luminara said quietly, “I concur with General Ti.”

A sigh of relief went up from around Barriss, as the crew relaxed as one.

 _Two votes for fleeing,_ she thought, eerily calm. _Three for open war, and three for Ahsoka._ And in the event of a tie…

Dooku’s expression was sour. “I suppose there is little point in asking how the Ferryman’s speaker votes, _Captain_ Tano.”

Ahsoka bared her teeth in his face, a hunter’s grin.

“Wax your sails, gentleman,” she told them. “You should get ready too, _Count._ We’re getting my brother back.”

* * *

There was no such thing as silence on a seafaring vessel. The boards creaked, metal fastenings clinked gently against each other, lines moaned and flags and sails snapped. And always, the sea whispered around them.

Still, the _Ghost_ was as deadly silent as any ship was capable of.

Hera gripped the wheel harder, trying and failing to relax her jaw. She could already feel the stress headache building.

She jumped slightly as warm hands planted themselves on her shoulders, then relaxed as Kanan began carefully working the kinks out of her muscles.

“Still time to change your mind,” he pointed out. And _oh,_ had Hera ever considered it over the course of the past hour.

After a long moment, she sighed and shook her head.

“I don’t think I can,” she admitted. “Ahsoka was right, I _don’t_ like pirates. If we can find a way to make this work, we have to try.”

Kanan hummed, and for the next few minutes concentrated on massaging her neck.

“Well!” he said cheerfully. “In that case, I’d just like to remind you that bringing Ezra aboard was _your_ idea.”

“Ha, ha,” she growled. “You _found_ him, dear. _Sabine!”_ She raised her voice so she could be heard from belowdecks. “How do we look?”

_“I’m working on it!”_

Hera winced. When Sabine sounded that frantic mid-project, it was never a great sign.

“Hurry it up,” she called back. “You’ve got ten minutes!”

Sabine’s response was muffled through the floorboards. It did not sound complimentary.

Sure enough, a few seconds later Ezra’s head popped out of an open hatch.

“Hey, Hera.” He gave a vague impression of a salute. “Um, Sabine says…Yeah, I’m not gonna say that. _Okay, okay!_ Sabine says it’s humid and she can’t make ink dry faster, so stall the...the officer.”

“Really.” Hera quirked an eyebrow. “She said ‘officer,’ is that it?”

“I heard a few more syllables than that,” agreed Kanan.

Ezra threw his hands in the air, which is never a good idea while standing on a ladder.

“Chop,” Hera sighed as the crashes faded. “Make sure he’s alive.”

_“Hera!”_

Hera squinted into the rigging, where Zeb was waving down at them. “What is it, Zeb?”

“Signal from that patrol ship!” he shouted. “We’re on!”

Hera took a deep breath. No turning back now.

“Chopper, warn Sabine,” she ordered. “Get Ezra back up here. Bring to but do _not_ let my ship into irons, Zeb, if this doesn’t work we’re gonna need to run like hell. Kanan...you should probably do the talking.”

Kanan straightened his jacket with a smirk. “I knew one of these days you’d take advantage of my natural charm.”

She did not dignify that with a response.

The Royal Navy patrol sloop handled almost as well as the _Ghost,_ military precision compensating for inferior craftsmanship; there was no boat on the water, except perhaps the _Twilight,_ that could match Hera’s ship. But even with that skill, maneuvering gunships took time, and it was perhaps ten more minutes of sweating through thin cotton before a plank was laid down between the _Ghost_ and HMS _Expedient._

Kanan took the time to tip Hera a wink before moving to greet the Navy captain. She bit down a groan.

“Don’t get us all killed, love,” she muttered. He gave no indication that he’d heard her.

 _Expedient_ ’s captain was a young woman with absolutely no humor in her face. Hera knew the type. This was going to be a disaster.

“Well hello there, Captain!” Kanan exclaimed, spreading his arms wide in greeting before extending a too-eager hand to her. “It’s not often we’re greeted in person by someone so—”

“You there,” the captain said sharply. “Are you the captain of this vessel?”

Kanan shrugged with a grin. “Who’s asking? You know, there’s pirates out here, they say, can’t be too careful.”

“Commander Rae Sloane of HMS _Expedient._ Answer the question.”

“Well in that case, darling, I’m anything you want me to—”

“Shoot him,” she said coolly.

“Kanan Jarrus, ma’am, yes ma’am I command the _Spectre_ ma’am.”

Hera could see the effort the woman put into not rolling her eyes. “Better,” she bit out. Then, “Honest merchants avoid this area. There are no friendly ports and no chance of avoiding pirate attack without an escort. Explain yourself quickly, or else.”

Kanan gave an expansive shrug, holding his hands up in surrender. “Well, _Master and Commander Rae Sloane of HMS Expedient,_ you can certainly sink and scuttle this ship if you feel like it, a little corvette like us couldn’t stop you. I doubt it’d go over very well with your superiors, though, seeing as how we were commissioned from Port Royal specifically to tend to your admiral’s task force.” He pointed up at the naval and EITC flags Hera had dug out of storage, snapping in the wind. “The gunpowder provisions probably wouldn’t appreciate it either, and your ship is awfully close.”

For an almost imperceptible moment, Sloane hesitated.

Hera tried not to relax too obviously. _We have her._

“I find that difficult to believe,” said Sloane. “The fleet has its own supply ships.”

Once more, Kanan shrugged. “I don’t know about any of that,” he said. “We just go where we’re ordered. The _Spectre_ has a lot of experience outsmarting pirates in this area. More than your task force, I imagine. How many resupply ships has the fleet lost so far?.”

“None of your business.” The words just barely managed to escape from between her clenched teeth. “You have a copy of your orders to prove this story, I assume.”

Hera spoke up. “I sent our gunnery mate to fetch them when you arrived. She’ll be with us in a moment. The safe sticks sometimes.”

Right on cue, there were thundering footsteps from belowdecks and Sabine stumbled on deck.

_“I’m here!”_

Checking herself at the sight of an officer’s braid, she straightened and saluted. Sometimes it was useful to have a naval deserter on board. The verbal abuse, harsh punishments, and hazing a ship’s girl was expected to go through in the Navy hadn’t agreed with Midshipwoman Sabine Wren; when press gangs had targeted her people’s children and subjected them to the same treatment, she’d had enough.

She’d brought the work ethic, the flag codes, and an eerie skill with formal language with her, so Hera counted it as the Navy’s loss.

“Our orders, sir,” she said, handing Sloane an envelope of thick paper with a broken red-wax seal. For something she’d only had about six hours to forge, it looked convincing enough from where Hera stood.

Sabine’s crisp, feigned professionalism seemed to have temporarily mollified the commander. She flipped the forged letter open. There was a long, terse moment as she examined the seal and the signature; but then her eyes slid reluctantly to the top, and she muttered to herself as she read it.

“By the order of Minister Maketh Tua, duly appointed representative of His Majesty the King...hereby issue a limited temporary commission...not to exceed duration of current fleet movement...deputized to serve as additional tender to the functioning of the fleet…” Sloane looked up sharply. “You have supplies to offload?”

“Fruit, cheese, and fresh meat, mainly,” Hera replied. According to their _official orders,_ she was Kanan’s quartermaster, and the question would be most appropriately directed to her. “And limited additional supplies of gunpowder.”

“I’ve got a bottle of wine if you’re interested,” Kanan added with a rakish grin.

Sloane audibly ground her teeth. “Fresh supplies are no doubt intended for the capital ships. Typical of land-based government to send us luxuries on the eve of battle.”

“Careful,” Kanan pointed out. “That sounded almost insubordinate.”

“You will follow the heading provided by my helmsman, transfer your supplies, and report to the master of HMS _Vigilance_ for further instruction in making yourselves and your vessel useful,” Sloane snapped. “If that consists of vacating the area immediately upon receipt of the supplies, you will do so. We have no ships to spare for an escort.”

“We’ll manage. Beautiful ship you’ve got there, by the way. Love the lines to aft.”

Sloane’s fingers twitched toward her sword, and Hera lunged forward to haul Kanan back by his collar.

“We’ll get to work then, Commander, thank you for your time!”

Sloane looked her over and raised an eyebrow. “I’m glad _you’re_ obviously the one training the girl. If you want this ship to keep its contract with the Navy, I’d make a note of that unless your captain owns this vessel. In which case, my sympathies.”

“Yeah,” said Kanan with a casual wave that hopefully only Hera could tell was suddenly very forced. “That won’t be necessary. The owner and I have an understanding. But forgive my quartermaster’s rudeness. She’s a bit on edge due to the pirate threat, but you’re a proper officer! Please, allow me to give you a tour of the ship—”

The offer had exactly the effect he’d calculated; Sloane actually took a full step back toward the plank at the very idea.

“Unlike freelance fruit-runners,” she said with thick, cloying courtesy, “A King’s ship has real responsibilities. Proceed, and mind your crew keeps civil tongues. I have made allowance for your civilian origins, but you’ve accepted a naval appointment and that places you under naval law.” She gave a cold smile. “From this point on, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see you all flogged against a mast. Good day, _Captain.”_

She turned on her heel and crossed back to her own ship, and only the constant rush of the waves prevented her from noticing Sabine’s sigh of relief.

“You heard her, people,” Kanan announced loudly for the benefit of the _Expedient_ as the Navy vessel began resetting her sails. “With a will!” Under his breath, he added, “Nice work. And congratulations on the promotion, apparently, _gunnery mate.”_

Hera shrugged, unrepentant. “She’s the closest thing we’ve got.”

“Does this mean I get a raise?”

“No.”

 _Expedient_ was well under way now, and Hera sighed. Their turn to tack.

“Welcome to the Royal Navy, children,” she said grimly. _“Ready about!”_

* * *

Waves whispered just at the edge of her consciousness.

Barriss didn’t want to open her eyes, not yet. She was thinking.

It was possible, completely possible, that when she opened her eyes she would be back in her bed. The scent of salt and trees, and the distant cry of seagulls, drifting in through her open window like always. It made more sense than the idea that everything happening to her _wasn’t_ a dream.

It would be just like her subconscious, honestly. It would be just _like_ her subconscious to find a way to place her in the bed of a beautiful, impossibly noble pirate lord. Whipping up a confused, convoluted amalgamation of every myth and legend and scrap of obscure history she’d ever read, and making it come to life. Placing her in the middle of history when she’d resigned herself to living forever with that dull ache of longing for the sea never satisfied or acknowledged.

That was why she didn’t want to open her eyes. Despite everything, the terror, the uncertainty, the blood and death waiting for her today if it was all real...she didn’t want it to be a dream.

Fingers tangled gently in her hair before running down her throat. After a moment, soft lips replaced them.

“Rex wake you up, kitten?” Ahsoka murmured against her skin.

Barriss smiled, heart fluttering as she melted into the soft touch. Still half-asleep, she couldn’t manage anything more eloquent than a muted, vaguely inquisitive noise.

Ahsoka chuckled, pressing another languid kiss just below Barriss’ ear. “He brought breakfast. I was hoping you’d stay asleep long enough to steal all the bread.”

That was enough for Barriss to roll over.

“Where on earth did you get _fresh bread?”_ she demanded, voice rasping sleepily.

Ahsoka, sitting at the edge of the bunk with her fingers still trailing through Barriss’ hair, grinned.

“Your mom,” she said, smile flickering to sympathy when Barriss winced. She continued with a gentler tone. “The rest of her flotilla showed up just past 0200. New arrivals are a frigate named _Sunderheart,_ two brigs, eight sloops. Three of those are friends Luke brought with him, so, he’s back too. _Redemption_ sent over a pinnace this morning, compliments of her queen, with some dinner rolls and eggs.” She picked up a hard-boiled egg and tossed it in the air. “There’s eggs, by the way.”

“That’s something,” Barriss agreed, distracted and looking around the cabin. Ahsoka’s lips twitched, and she took a roll from the tray beside the bed and offered it to her.

“I _know_ some of those ships,” she said as Barriss sat up to eat her roll. “ _Tantive_ ’s definitely a smuggler, everyone knows that, but up until now I would have sworn _Radiant_ and _Azure Angel_ were honest merchants. Apparently Unduli’s got a decent fencing operation and a few sleeper cells besides. But, yeah. If Han’s estimates were right, the Navy doesn’t have much of a numbers advantage anymore.”

The reminder of the upcoming battle, combined with her mother’s identity, rather ruined Barriss’ appetite. She moved to set her roll down, but Ahsoka placed a hand on her wrist.

“Eat,” she said, quiet but firm. “Three hours from now, you’ll regret not getting food in your stomach.”

Of course. It was stupid not to eat before a pitched battle, and Barriss winced at her own foolishness as she forced herself to swallow. Ahsoka’s expression was sympathetic.

“Here,” she said after a moment, picking up a knife and slicing one of the hard-boiled eggs in half. “Bread’s gentler on an empty stomach, but this is easier to get down. Trust me.”

Ahsoka was right, of course; and by the time she’d gotten through a second egg her appetite was back enough that she could also finish the roll. But if Barriss was honest with herself, she knew it wasn’t the difference in texture that let her eat. She could never have relaxed enough to get anything down if it wasn’t for Ahsoka sitting beside her, thumb idly tracing circles on her hip.

“You’d be safer on _Tranquility,”_ she said softly.

Barriss didn’t hesitate. “So would you.” Ahsoka inclined her head, acknowledging her decision, and didn’t push again.

It was...very quiet. There was so much they both needed to say, and no way to put it into words. Barriss dressed in silence, and set her battered, stolen Navy coat aside. She would have liked the comforting weight and protection from the wind; but she had no intention of risking a case of mistaken identity. There would be quite enough people shooting at her already.

A polite knock at the cabin door pulled Barriss out of her thoughts.

“Sir?” Rex only cracked the door open, Barriss almost smiled remembering their first meeting. He’d always had too much propriety for a pirate. “Don’t mean to bother you, Captain, but you wanted to go over these maneuvers again before we got in sight of the enemy.”

“With you in a minute, Rex,” Ahsoka called, and the door shut again. As they stood she added to Barriss, “You should look over the battle plans too. You might see something I missed.”

Barriss inclined her head and moved to open the door—but Ahsoka suddenly reached out and placed a hand flat against the wood, holding it closed. Barriss looked up in surprise.

Agonizingly slowly, Ahsoka raised a hand and ran feather-soft knuckles along Barriss’ cheek. Her expression was drawn and distant, eyes a deeper steel-grey than they had any right to be, and the steady force of her gaze dragged the breath from Barriss’ lungs like the inexorable outgoing tide.

“I never thanked you, did I?” Ahsoka murmured.

 _For what?_ Barriss almost asked, but she’d never been good at feigning ignorance. _It was nothing._ But the past...year? Nine months? Had been _everything._

“You didn’t have to take me with you,” she whispered instead.

“You didn’t have to stay.”

Dizzy with love and fear, time slipping away from them, Barriss reached up and buried her hands in Ahsoka’s braids.

“Then thank me,” she ordered, and sunlight flashed off the sea as Ahsoka’s gaze sharpened.

There was no sudden flare of passion, no explosion of energy; Barriss found herself pressed against the wall, hard and gentle at once, with no specific memory of moving. Ahsoka’s hands cupped her face, fingernails just barely scratching at the back of her neck. A clever tongue parted her lips, her hands tightened convulsively in Ahsoka’s hair, and she couldn’t have contained the low keen if she’d tried.

Ahsoka laughed low and rough against her mouth. And then, too soon, the pad of her thumb lingering on Barriss’ jaw, she pulled away.

“...Thanks,” she said, mischief in her lopsided grin.

Barriss hit her shoulder.

Ahsoka grinned wider. _“Ouch._ All this hauling sail line’s built up some muscle there, kitten. Sabine made you train with her on the way to Antarctica, didn’t she?”

“I fail to see what that has to do with anything,” Barriss muttered. She didn’t loosen her grip on Ahsoka. She couldn’t bear it just yet.

Ahsoka’s eyes were the color of a storm, but they softened as she smiled.

“Let me have something to look forward to.” She tucked Barriss’ hair behind one ear. _“I’m_ not saying goodbye just yet.”

It still took a moment; but slowly, Barriss managed to force her fingers to relax. And it...helped, somehow. Letting the tension out of her body calmed her mind, at least enough to return Ahsoka’s smile.

“Yes, well.” She took a deep breath. “We shouldn’t keep Rex waiting.”

* * *

Ahsoka was outwardly calm.

They didn’t have the wind behind them; but they weren’t running _against_ it, either, despite the Navy’s attempts to maneuver them into losing the weather gage. And the wind was strong, almost worryingly so, coming in gusts from the dark stormclouds moving in on them astern and to starboard..

Some people would call that a bad omen. Anakin had never quite laughed into storms, he respected their power too greatly; but he’d never feared them either. _Dancing,_ he’d called it, reading the wind and the swelling waves like a poem and keeping up light, cheerful commentary until the sea had worn itself out.

Ahsoka glanced anxiously at the gathering thunderbumpers. This was Anakin’s territory, and she didn’t like the idea of challenging him there.

The plan for this battle had been accepted, with only minimal griping, by the other Pirate Lords. Whatever their opinion of the fight, now that the decision had been made they wanted it to go in their favor. Fleet divisions, a screen of sloops interspersed with fighting brigs, _Nightsister_ and _Tranquility_ held in the center; the capital ships were sailing at full power but they were heavy and slow, and would be outstripped by the rest of the Court. They would do the most good holding the rear, guarding the fleet’s retreat and serving as a silent warning to the Navy not to send _their_ first-rate ships into the fray, either..

She and Barriss had sketched out an enveloping maneuver if the enemy was stupid enough to try to form a line of battle against a pirate fleet, but she didn’t think that would happen. This was going to be a close, interlocked fight.

Regardless of the enemy tactics, on the water too much changed too quickly to leave vague orders to chance. The _Twilight_ was a powerful weapon that they couldn’t afford not to deploy...and if they intended to control her effectively against the fleet, they would need the heart on-site, in the hands of their admiral.

The heart would be aboard _Executor_. They just had to get to it.

Her grip on _Fulcrum_ ’s wheel was loose, her shoulders relaxed. There was no white-knuckled clinging or terse pre-battle jitters; she gave her orders with the same light tone and good humor as ever. Judging by the sideways glances she kept getting from Barriss, though, she wasn’t fooling her.

She _certainly_ wasn’t fooling Rex.

A warm hand gripped her shoulder. “We’ll get him back, sir.”

Ahsoka closed her eyes and breathed.

“This is about a lot more than Anakin, Rex,” she said finally.

Rex’s voice was quiet. “Aye, sir.”

After a moment, Barriss cleared her throat. Ahsoka glanced her way, and Barriss raised her eyebrows and tilted her head meaningfully behind them, where the crew was mingling on the deck while they waited for the command to stations.

Mingling and watching their captain, and Ahsoka looked back to Barriss and nodded.

“Hold her steady,” she said in an undertone. Barriss slipped a hand over Ahsoka’s to grip the wheel, and after a moment, Ahsoka turned away to face her people.

She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“This is about a lot more than Anakin,” she repeated, raising her voice. “Stealing the heart will free my brother, and getting the _Twilight_ back on our side won’t hurt us against the Royal Navy either. But that’s not why we’re going to war.”

Her crew was very still, very quiet, waiting for her to continue, and Ahsoka met as many of their eyes as she could.

“It doesn’t _matter_ that he’s my brother,” she said. “What matters is that he has a soul. This is about...this is about what that means. I don’t know everyone’s story.” She flicked her gaze across her crew, Steela’s people, then glanced to port to pick out the black sails of _Scimitar_ on the horizon. “Most of them aren’t exactly noble. But you’re all here because of a choice _you_ made, for better or worse. This isn't about Anakin, this is about everyone who will ever love the sea, every single person who will ever hear that call the way we did, because if the Company has their way, a ship will never mean freedom again. They won't just own us in life, they'll own every lost sailor. Every ship that will ever die until the end of time. There will never be a Ferryman to guide them home, because he'll be just another weapon. They don't care about lost souls, they only care about a magic ship to protect their profits. And they call _us_ heartless thieves.”

That got a few murmurs of agreement and a sharp nod from the Gerreras.

Ahsoka wasn’t any good at long speeches, and pirates didn’t tend to have the attention spans for them anyway. There was only one thing that really needed saying.

 _“You can’t own the sea!”_ Her voice rang over the deck, and a few of her crew straightened. “You can’t own _people._ You can’t hold souls hostage. They’ve tried that long enough, and they’re not going to stop. Well, we know a thing or two about taking back things that shouldn’t be owned.”

And now her crew was grinning; some wide, some grim and mirthless, but their eyes were bright and hard and locked on her face, and at exactly the right moment there was a shrill whistle from Hardcase on lookout.

“We’ve reached your mark, sir!” he shouted down. _“Executor,_ thirty degrees to starboard!”

Ahsoka acknowledged him with a hand signal, then turned back to the crew.

“We get _one chance_ to do this right,” she said. “Run up the flag. All hands to stations.”

There were no cheers—Anakin had always been the one for rousing speeches—but the shout of assent came as if from one voice. And after a few moments, as Jesse hauled up her scarlet diamonds on black, whoops and whistles and the low, fierce cries of foghorns echoed over the water from the Brethren Court.

Even at a distance, their target couldn’t hide if she’d wanted to. The big, beautiful first-rate man-o’-war _Executor_ rippled with signal flags. They sure as hell couldn’t take her in a brig, but they didn’t have to. _Fulcrum_ could turn on a dime; the jibe would be a violent maneuver, but they only had to get close enough to that ship to board it and pray.

Her people knew their jobs. _Fulcrum_ ’s sheets snapped and pivoted higher into the wind, drawing the rest of the fleet behind her. Rex, taking the helm from Barriss, let her come around; and the beautiful brig lunged forward, tossing her head with joy, a wild mare finally slipped free of the rope.

The Court wheeled with her. General Ti’s cheerful striped brigs, trailing Hondo’s ragged scarlet, the brilliantly ragtag ships of the Syndulla fleet. And around them, half of Luminara’s forces—her quick sloops and the freelancers Luke had brought them, flags of their own leaping into the sky, racing at _Fulcrum_ ’s heels, none of them quite able to keep pace with her.

And, to leeward, charging away under full canvas, were _Womp Rat_ and the _Millennium Falcon._ Anakin’s children weren’t _happy_ about their part in the plan, but Ahsoka had successfully argued to Luke that if they could draw Anakin out, away from the Navy, speak to him alone...it would take _Twilight_ out of the battle, and they stood the best chance of breaking through to him if the Company’s control could still be breached. Besides, they were the Navy’s original leverage. Stealing the heart would be meaningless if the twins were captured again

Very few of the fleet remaining liked each other, and only about half could be relied upon once the shooting started. But they were here, and they were hers. For now.

And for a brief, fierce moment, the world was in balance.

Ahsoka would never be certain of the instant she _knew_.

She never knew _how_ she knew it was all about to go wrong. But the Navy took as dim a view as pirates did of stealing a ship to subvert it, and their desire for vengeance was as vicious. Even now _Star Scavenger,_ one of Luke’s smuggler friends, was charging a pretty Navy vessel Ahsoka recognized as the former smuggler _Strikefast_ —confiscated and turned against them, an insult no sailor could forgive.

Yet _Fulcrum,_ the liberated jewel of the Royal Navy, dancing under Ahsoka’s hands as if eager to fight on the side of freedom, was streaking toward the flagship...and the Navy seemed to have better things to do, fanning out from _Executor_ to engage the Court, leaving _Fulcrum_ ’s way clear.

And a storm was rising, turning choppy waves the color of gunmetal, driving them forward like flying, building up momentum it wouldn’t be easy to shed…

If Ahsoka had waited for confirmation of what was about to happen, it would have been too late.

_“Hard to starboard!”_

_Twilight_ ’s ink-black hull burst through the waves, directly in their path.

* * *

Nobody ever really looked at a ship’s boy.

Unfortunately, today he was a young naval rating in the Royal Navy. Luckily nobody on a ship the size of a Royal Navy man’o’war seemed to want to waste much time on those, either.

Ezra straightened his coat and was grateful for that little gift of Ahsoka’s. Well…“gift.” He was pretty sure Sabine hadn’t actually _asked_ before she helped herself to the store of spare Navy uniforms hidden aboard _Fulcrum._ “Never know when they might come in handy!” she’d explained cheerfully, and he wasn’t about to argue.

A little judicious tailoring on the way to Takodana, and the scratchy cotton even fit him. He still hated it and its stupid collar buttons and neckcloth. And its stupid shiny shoes and stockings. Ezra had never worn breeches in his _life,_ and he missed the loose cotton trousers any _normal_ sailor would wear. It was _hot,_ why did the Navy make its midshipmen wear dark cotton overcoats?

“Preaching to the choir, kid,” Sabine had said before sealing him inside a barrel labelled _Pickles_.

Kanan’s plan to annoy the Navy into not wanting anything to do with the _Ghost_ crew had worked like a charm; in the rush of delivering their supplies, and with Sabine using her Naval training to do all the talking, nobody had even noticed when Ezra Bridger quietly disappeared. And on the flagship of the Royal Navy, who would notice one junior officer?

 _That_ was where things had gotten complicated, because after all the trouble they’d gone to in order to get him onboard _Executor,_ it had taken less than an hour of careful information gathering for Ezra to realize he was on the wrong ship.

 _Executor_ was the flagship, sure, in that Captain Pryce was the one giving signals to the rest of the fleet. But she wasn’t the one coming up with the orders.

 _Executor_ hung colorful flags and polished its brass and drew attention to itself, and _Executor_ would be the ship the pirates would target—the ship the _Ghost_ would target. But there was only one ship in this fleet that people talked about when they talked about orders. And...something else. Something that made them lower their voices and awkwardly change the subject, something the men weren’t supposed to know about but couldn’t avoid knowing.

Thank God for Hera, who’d managed to somehow get Sloane to interfere on their behalf. Ezra had been too busy getting shoved into a pickle barrel to get most of the story, but apparently she’d made up something about Kanan screwing up their deliveries and needing to transfer some supplies around that Sloane was only too willing to believe.

And that was how Ezra had gotten onboard HMS _Chimera_.

It hadn’t been a _good_ night, but it wasn’t the worst night’s sleep Ezra Bridger had ever gotten, either. From there it was a simple matter of staying in his barrel until he heard the call to stations, then popping the lid and jogging up onto the crew deck. Time to go to work.

Luckily, no one saw him coming up from the hold. _Stealing food is a flogging offense,_ Sabine had warned him as they rehearsed for this job, and he couldn’t afford to attract any attention.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself. No one was rushing, but everyone was completely focused on their jobs, prepping _Chimera_ for the pirate assault. “So far so good, walk like you belong here…”

“You there! Officer!”

Ezra gave a full-body cringe as he turned to face the lieutenant who’d called him. “Yeah? Uh, I mean...y-yes, sir?”

The lieutenant was a young woman, maybe five years older than Sabine; she was immaculately turned out and the look she fixed him with was firm, but not as stiff and tense as Sloane had been. Maybe there was hope.

“You’re missing a sword, midshipman,” she said sternly. “You’re not dressed.”

“Right.” He tried not to wince again. He had a dirk Sabine had given him, and a marlinspike tucked inside his waistband in case he needed to stab someone _really_ badly; but swords were expensive. They didn’t exactly have a spare on hand, and definitely not one that could pass as Navy issue. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m...not used to wearing one?”

Ezra kicked himself immediately. Every street kid knew that the best lies were mostly true, but he wasn’t supposed to be a street kid, he was supposed to be an officer…

Weirdly, the lieutenant smiled.

“I remember,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a strange sensation to get used to. I won’t punish you for it today, boy, we’re all on edge facing this scum. Fetch your sword and get to your post on the double and we’ll let it go. _Once,_ understand?”

Ezra straightened awkwardly, trying to mimic Sabine’s businesslike snap to attention. “Yes! Thanks! Uh, thank you, _sir!”_

“Off you go.”

Ezra thought about saluting, decided that _would_ give him away, and bolted up the nearest ladder to the middle deck. He took a moment to brace himself on the wall separating the passage from the officers’ wardroom and steady his breathing and pounding heart.

Okay. Stage one complete, somehow. No time to find a sword, and it’d be too risky; he’d just have to hope no one else noticed.

There was only one thing he’d come here to steal.

Ezra took one more deep breath, stood up straight, and marched with purpose down the corridor.

* * *

Ahsoka’s quick thinking saved _Fulcrum_ from ramming the _Twilight_ at flight speed—but only just.

Wood scraped and slammed against wood, screaming, as Ahsoka’s beautiful brig attempted to shoulder the smaller sloop out of her way; but _Twilight_ could not be so easily shaken.

She carried only sixteen cannons and two light swivel guns, and they were more than enough. Her broadside was ready, and _Fulcrum_ ’s was not. Thunder and smoke erupted between the vessels as they jostled for position, and screams echoed up from the gun deck.

While _Fulcrum_ shuddered, pulled almost ninety degrees off her intended course by the sharp turn, _Twilight_ ’s ragged sails snapped taut. Unlike the brig, _Twilight_ ’s sheets were already set to jibe; she danced away to port before Ahsoka could get off a broadside. A few cannons fired frantically, but _Twilight_ had leapt forward as she twisted and the cannonballs struck the water uselessly in her wake.

Ahsoka tried to control the knot of dread in her stomach. A shiphandling duel against _Anakin_ —it was her worst nightmare come to life. But there wasn’t time to indulge in fear. _Twilight_ was already swinging around, bringing her port guns to bear; and _Fulcrum_ was rattled, sails shivering uncertainly, almost perpendicular to her opponent.

Struggling back onto their previous line would take too long. All they could do was try to complete the accidental tack, pull _Fulcrum_ about to at least give as good as she got.

Cannonfire raked her stern as she struggled through the wind. Her sails ruffled dangerously, stalling as she pointed into the wind, and Ahsoka could only pray to a sea that had chosen someone else as they hauled sheet line and waited for the wind to catch again. There was a long, terrifying pause in which no fire was returned— _Fulcrum_ was heeling too hard in the wind, rolling to point her gunports down into the sea. Then a wave tossed the bow, lifting the angle of the leeward side just enough, and the starboard guns began to blaze.

Too slow. Not enough.

 _“Hold her!”_ Ahsoka shouted over the chaos. “Get _Twilight_ to windward, we can’t shoot like this, Rex!”

She should have known better. Anakin Skywalker didn’t _get_ outmaneuvered.

 _Twilight_ ’s course should have brought her in front of _Fulcrum_ ; but the black ship bucked, throwing her nose in the air and tacking through the wind like she was trying to bodyslam it. It was a reckless, violent move, and it worked perfectly. _Twilight_ wrenched her head around, and that was when Ahsoka remembered the chasers.

Eighteen-gun sloops weren’t meant to _have_ chase armament. Certainly _Twilight_ hadn’t been built with them; broadsides were enough, for a ship her size. But Anakin had never been satisfied. He’d worked and sweated and drawn up and scrapped plan after plan, before finally designing a system that satisfied him. They’d drawn their little sloop—not blackened by ash and pain back then, but flashing with proud polished larchwood and cedar—up onto a beach, and over the course of a week built in a pair of forward-facing gunports, hidden cleverly behind the bowsprit carvings.

It had given a few pirate raiders a nasty surprise, back in the day. And now those prized chase cannons ripped into Ahsoka’s ship at point-blank range, as _Fulcrum_ jerked back into the wind to avoid a collision.

And then _Twilight_ was alongside them again, firing en passant. _Fulcrum_ had stolen the wind from her sails, but that no longer mattered. Her own starboard guns roared, compensating doggedly for their poor angle as _Fulcrum_ bounced on the choppy waves; _Twilight_ ’s facing broadside met no such resistance, and this time chains and barshot shredded their way through Ahsoka’s rigging.

There was an earth-rending _crack_ as a yardarm snapped in half, scattering wooden shrapnel over the deck, throwing splinters through the sails, lines and canvas snarling and dragging each other down to pierce the deck. A chunk of railing flew across the ship and struck Echo in the stomach. The foresail, caught by scattershot, exploded before her eyes. _Twilight_ didn’t escape unharmed either; she limped back out of _Fulcrum_ ’s shadow trailing shrapnel and taking on water, with a gash through her mainsail.

That last shot shouldn’t have been possible. Ahsoka made a note to find out which gunner had pulled off _that_ miracle and give him a raise.

If only _Twilight_ really _needed_ the wind, at the end of the day. If only a ship forged by the sea itself, that could travel through the depths of the ocean and between worlds, could be harmed by flooding…

There was a sharp tug at her hair and a blow behind her knee, and Ahsoka was thrown to the ground just in time to feel a rush of air over her head before collapsing to the deck.

“Sorry!” Barriss’ mouth was right beside her ear; she’d tackled Ahsoka to the ground, apparently. But she still had to raise her voice to be heard over the sound of the battle. “The backstay snapped!”

Ahsoka lifted her head to look. And yes, the nearest backstay had indeed been caught by either a stray shot or a sharp piece of wood; the broken cleat she’d felt whistle over her head as she fell had whipped around with enough force to carve a chunk out of the solid oak mast.

Ahsoka swallowed. “Good eye, kitten.”

Barriss gave a short, terse nod.

“This ship can’t outhandle him,” she said bluntly. “What do we do?”

Ahsoka spared a moment to cast a desperate, longing look at _Executor. That_ was their target. She’d never intended to get bogged down in a cannon duel with Anakin!

But this battle was between armadas, and it hadn’t paused while _Fulcrum_ fought for her life. The nearest allies were _Bravo_ and _Tantive_ to windward; but _Tantive_ was bracing against a frigate bearing down on her, and General Ti could only act on her own conscience. Ahsoka’s ship had only one sloop as an opponent, and without assistance _Tantive_ was firewood. Aayla’s _Venator_ was in range to leeward, barely; and so was a Navy brig, veering to come to _Twilight_ ’s assistance, _Venator_ racing to intercept her.

It was all the help they could give; the Brethren had their own battles to fight. _Fulcrum_ was on her own.

And _Twilight_ had come around again. It was a maneuver Ahsoka recognized—she was going to leeward. _Fulcrum_ would either turn inward, the wind driving her into _Twilight_ ’s waiting broadside; or she would turn higher into the wind, slowing herself down while _Twilight_ , rigged to beat into the wind better than any ship in the world, could dodge back and forth, raking her stern.

She remembered Anakin’s fierce, hard smile, the satisfaction in his eyes.

 _It’s not him,_ she reminded herself. _This isn’t him. He wouldn’t do this to us. He wouldn’t do this to me. It’s not his fault._

“We don’t try,” she finally said. “Whoever’s controlling him, they’re trying to keep us off the flagship. We’re not here for a fight, we’re here for the heart. Our goal hasn’t changed. Rex!”

Rex muttered under his breath, and she was pretty sure her helmsman crossed himself when he thought she wasn’t looking. Out loud, however, he just said “Aye, sir,” called “Ready about!” to the crew, and let _Fulcrum_ go.

Facing off against _Twilight_ —a sweet lady of a sloop, in the hands of a man who knew her stem to stern and had handled her for over a century—Ahsoka couldn’t help but feel as clunky as a capital ship in her little brig. But _Fulcrum_ was no awkward man’o’war herself, and she wheeled back through the wind in what could only be called a pirouette, nearly spinning in place around her rudder.

 _Twilight,_ predictably, matched her course on the opposite tack. She was blocking them out, pacing on an invisible line drawn between _Fulcrum_ and _Executor,_ and Ahsoka gave a grim smile.

“Well,” Barriss said at her side. “This confirms your theory, at least. They know there’s something on the flagship that we, specifically, will be trying to reach.”

Ahsoka nodded, then lifted the boarding axe from her belt and handed it to her. “Help Fives clear some of the fallen line. And stay safe.” She made herself turn, briefly, and smile. “I’ve got something to look forward to after this, remember?”

She was hoping to make Barriss blush, or at least roll her eyes. What she got instead was a long, steady look.

“Stay alive,” Barriss said after a moment. “Try.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ahsoka told her quietly. Barriss nodded and set about clearing the deck, and Ahsoka turned back to the ship that had once been her home, and prepared to fire on it.

 _Fulcrum_ was running nearly before the wind; _Twilight_ was at a bad angle, but she was still the faster ship even with a torn mainsail. Even if _Twilight_ tried another of those sharp, violent turns, even if she poured on more speed, she would only make the hole wider. They were going to slip behind her, rake her stern in passing. And then Anakin would have no choice but to bring around beside them and hold them in a broadside duel, trading fire all the way as they rushed the flagship…

They were just going to have to hold out. Nothing else for it.

The ship of the dead was ahead at an acute angle, almost crossing _Fulcrum_ ’s T. Below, Steela called to the gunners to standby. The timing was perfect, there was no maneuver that could stop them…

 _Twilight_ stopped dead.

It wasn’t possible, but neither was the ghost ship’s existence. And while _Twilight_ could and did use the wind and the tides to her advantage, she was not _bound_ by them. Of course she wasn’t. The tattered rags that hung from her masts couldn’t catch any real wind, only a spectre of it. She could dive to the bottom of the ocean, cross worlds, her oath called her to the side of any dying soul at sea without regard for distance...and if she chose to ignore the wind, to let the sea wash along her sides without tossing her forward, she had that right.

And now, stopped impossibly sudden just off _Fulcrum_ ’s starboard bow, she was blocking them again.

But not enough, Ahsoka thought with sudden hope. _Fulcrum_ was still running, and even _Twilight_ would take time to start again from a dead stop. Rex was already adjusting; a simple jog to port, just twitching the bow around _Twilight_ , and they could slip around in front of her instead…

One of the forward-facing cannons fired. Rex, flinching on instinct, pulled _Fulcrum_ ’s nose just a bit tighter up, an angle that would bring their starboard broadside to bear in self-defense a few seconds sooner…an angle that just, barely, twitched them through the wind.

The uncontrolled jibe hit _Fulcrum_ like the wrath of God.

The canvas they were still flying _slammed_ across the centerline. _Fulcrum_ was thrown over on her side by the force of it, the choppy waves rushing around open gunports. Not all the broken line from _Twilight_ ’s assault had been cut free; things caught, stretched, snapped, as yardarms attempted to clear lines that weren’t ready for them. Half-furled canvas wrenched at its stays. And all the while _Fulcrum_ was reeling, trapped by her own sails, fighting to right herself as the wind dragged her off course.

 _Twilight_ had loaded her chase cannons with bar shot.

Ahsoka could only watch in horror as her foremast snapped, shattered, and began to fall.

* * *

Ezra was sweating, and it was only mostly because of all these stupid layers.

 _Chimera_ wasn’t in the thick of the fighting yet, but the wind was driving smoke and the smells of gunpowder, blood, and salt over her deck. The smell made Ezra’s stomach churn, but at least the smoke had given him a bit of cover. Once he’d gotten up to the main deck, he’d been under the eyes of not only the officers, but the entire sailing crew.

Kanan had decided the midshipman’s uniform was their best bet—junior enough that he could fly under the radar on a large vessel, but with more freedom of movement than a common sailor and just enough respectability that he _might_ be able to talk his way out of being found somewhere suspicious. But the bright white shirt and stockings made it impossible to blend in to a crowd, and any hesitation would stand out immediately.

The only solution had been to straighten his back, set his shoulders, and strut across the deck like he had orders to be there, touching the brim of a nonexistent hat with a polite nod when he passed the actual deck officer. Sure enough, the man barely spared a glance at the midshipman hurrying past him.

That had gotten him across and safely back inside, where the issue had become breaking into the Admiral’s cabin. A bit of jiggling, a popped latch...and then thirty wasted minutes.

It wasn’t here. And every moment Ezra spent digging through drawers looking for the heart was more than he could afford. Anyone could find him, the _Twilight_ had to be wreaking devastation out there…

Also, if Ahsoka somehow figured out where the heart really was and stormed the _Chimera,_ Ezra didn’t really want to be hanging around wearing a Navy uniform.

At least he _thought_ the heart was here. Where else would it be? Admiral Thrawn had to have it, and he wouldn’t be holding it out in the open. So it would have to be hidden somewhere he could periodically check back to give new orders without looking suspicious, which…

Which wouldn’t be his cabin, Ezra realized, ice in his belly. It would be the _day_ cabin, another deck up. Right behind the table where the admiral and his officers were observing the battle.

For about half a minute, Ezra fervently whispered all the things Hera had threatened to wash his mouth out with soap for if she ever heard them on her ship again.

Then he took a deep breath, carefully closed the cabin door behind him, and walked outside again.

He was _seriously_ regretting the midshipman thing now. If he was wearing normal clothes he could shimmy up the rigging and try to climb onto the quarterdeck that way. He’d be dead if he got caught, but if he was quick and quiet maybe he could manage it. Unfortunately that wasn’t going to happen, so he was going to have to use a different tactic.

Sneak thief was out. Time for a good old-fashioned street con.

He forced himself to take his time climbing the wide stairs up to the quarterdeck. It gave him hives. This place was _really_ obviously reserved for officers—and a midshipman, in company like the kind you got on the real command ship of the Royal Navy, didn’t count.

The commander glanced up as Ezra reached the top of the stairs. “You have a message?”

 _Here goes nothing._ “No, sir. I was sent here to, uh...act as a messenger!” _Smooth, Bridger,_ commented his mental Sabine. Ezra rushed to cover the moment of hesitation. “You don’t have a runner, and the Admiral should have better than a ship’s boy on hand during a battle this important. Sir.”

_Please don’t ask who sent me, please don’t ask who sent me…_

After a moment, the Admiral himself looked up.

“I am well served by my own staff at this time.” It could have been harsh, but his tone was exquisitely polite, which threw Ezra off-guard a bit. Even the anxious lieutenant he’d run into earlier, who’d gone out of her way to be nice to him, had been a lot more condescending. Thrawn continued amiably, “Still, by all means. These pirates are no real challenge, you will be in no one’s way. Consider it a valuable education.”

“Yes sir,” Ezra said quickly. “Thank you, sir. I’ll...stay over here so I’m not in your way!”

Unable to believe his luck, he sidled over toward the cabin door and did his best attempt at standing to attention. _Don’t rush. Don’t rush._

It was _agony,_ standing there with a near-perfect view of the ongoing battle. He _knew_ some of those ships.

Hondo’s trio of scarlet garbage scows was blowing horns near one edge of the battle, staying close together and trying to gang up on a Navy sloop they couldn’t outfight. The _Moldy Crow_ was in flames, and so were two of the Dathomiri junks that he could make out; he recognized the dramatic bow scar of the Navy patrol sloop _Adamant_ from the number of times it had ordered Hera to heave to for inspection. Its captain was a bit pompous and by-the-book, but he wasn’t vicious, and he was always polite and fair.

He was probably regretting that—the little sloop _Darklighter_ had passed those inspections a hundred times alongside Hera, and _Adamant_ had lost both masts to her already. As Ezra stood very still and tried to will the command staff into forgetting he was there, he watched the poor battered patrol ship strike her flag.

But the fight he couldn’t ignore was off the port bow. His position meant that he only saw flashes, a brief glimpse of black sails, the flash of _Fulcrum_ ’s cannons. As they twisted around each other, his mouth went dry at the sight of a raw, jagged stump where the forward mast should have been.

 _Okay,_ Ezra thought. _Time’s up._

This time, he didn’t have to pick a lock; after all, Thrawn would want access to his own day cabin, wouldn’t he? In an emergency, he’d want to get to the heart as soon as possible. Very, very carefully, Ezra reached back and turned the knob, watching for his moment—there. An explosion in the distance, a spark in someone’s powder magazine. The command staff stood to look, and he nudged the door open and slipped inside.

“Okay,” he said under his breath. “If I was the cursed heart of the immortal Ferryman of the Dead, where would I hide?”

A brief search through various chests, a wardrobe, and the desk turned up nothing, until Ezra moved to close the last drawer. Weird...the other ones seemed deeper.

He drew the knife Sabine had given him, prodding the back of the drawer until he found a sliver of a gap and was able to pry the false back loose.

There _was_ something in there. Something in a loose drawstring bag of black canvas, that pulsed in time to Ezra’s racing heartbeat…

“Ah,” Thrawn said pleasantly from behind him. “So it _was_ the heart, then. I did wonder.”

Ezra froze. No, no no no. He’d been _so_ close. All he’d had to do was hide the heart in an inside pocket. He could have freed Skywalker, he could have freed all of them. Then the Brethren could have fled, and the balance would have been restored. He was so _close…_

A gun cocked in the doorway. One of the other officers ordered, “Turn around slowly, boy.”

Ezra turned very slowly on the spot, mind racing. If he could shove past Thrawn, flee down into the ship, he’d at least have a few moments to touch the heart and give Anakin Skywalker some freedom. Then he could...toss the bundle overboard and hope for the best? Maybe shed some of the ridiculous clothes and hide out on _Chimera_ until the battle was over? He’d stowed away before and that had been a smaller ship…

It seemed like a viable plan until he looked out at the quarterdeck and saw the double line of armed soldiers. He was small and fast, but not _that_ good.

Thrawn took a step forward and held out a hand.

“A bold plan,” he acknowledged, “but poorly executed. The crew of this ship are hand-selected, Mr...Bridger, I believe. While I do not expect _every_ sailor aboard to recognize an outsider on sight, my own standards are somewhat higher. I was simply curious to see what your goal would be. Now, I suggest that you return my property.”

Ezra’s fingers clenched involuntarily around the little bundle in his hand; it twitched in protest. The spasm didn’t escape Thrawn’s piercing gaze.

“I see. You object to my phrasing, I take it? A noble sentiment.” He was too calm. It was getting on Ezra’s nerves. “You understand of course that piracy is a crime, for which Anakin Skywalker has evaded any consequence. Traditionally the sentence is death; a form of...penitent labor, is surely preferable. Call me his parole officer, if you will.”

 _“Slavery,”_ Ezra bit out. “And if you want the power of the Ferryman, why don’t you just take it? You’ve had his heart in your desk this whole time, what’s stopping you?”

Thrawn actually smiled slightly at that. Ezra didn’t like the expression; it fit wrong on the man’s face.

“I think not,” he said softly. “My skills are put to better use elsewhere, with a great deal more agency. The heart, Mr. Bridger.”

Ezra scowled.

“You want all the power without having to sacrifice for it,” he translated. “Sorry, _Admiral._ It doesn’t work that way.”

Just for a moment, the hint of a frown creased Thrawn’s brow. It was less than the span of one of the canvas bag’s rapid-fire heartbeats—but it was enough.

By the time Thrawn moved to stop him, Ezra had already plunged Sabine’s knife deep into Anakin Skywalker’s heart.

* * *

_Fulcrum_ was lost.

It broke Ahsoka’s heart, but there was no saving her now. She was taking on water too fast. Torn canvas could be repaired, masts and yardarms could be replaced with effort, but _Fulcrum_ was being battered to pieces.

Her captain didn’t even have time to mourn her.

The first wave of boarding hooks had been repelled, barely; but they’d been all but helpless then, and _Twilight_ had drawn up on her swamped starboard side and fastened grapplers into what was left of her, and now it was a bloodbath.

A bloodbath against her brother, against the men and women who’d been family to her for a hundred years, and Ahsoka couldn’t even spare time to weep. She’d lost her cutlass early on, snatched up a cleaver from the body of one of her own and leaped the distance to _Twilight_ ’s boiling deck. Her duty was to her crew, above anything.

She tried not to look at the ruined faces.

But sometimes she couldn’t stop herself.

She _felt_ herself flinch back from the killing blow as she recognized the remnants of a facial tattoo. It was buried, yes; distorted by the corpselike bloating of the Ferryman’s Curse, half-covered by barnacles erupting from the man’s flesh. But—

“Dogma,” she said miserably. “No. You know me…”

There was no recognition in his glassy eyes. But she knew him, she’d fought beside him, she remembered him from the night of _Twilight_ ’s death, remembered the light in his eyes as he’d sworn himself to Anakin’s service.

She couldn’t—she couldn’t—

He lifted a knife, stiffened, and collapsed.

Barriss pulled Ahsoka’s axe from his spine and offered the handle with no change of expression.

“I’m sorry. You knew him?” Her voice was tight, but not...terse. She had her left arm pressed tightly over an ugly red mark over her stomach, blood staining the cotton, and Ahsoka’s heart jumped in her chest. Barriss shook her head sharply before she could ask about it. “Not mine. I broke the wrist on the crash jibe, but nothing worse.”

Ahsoka couldn’t hold back a sigh of relief as she took her axe back. “Keep it that way, kit— _DOWN!”_

Barriss dropped to her knees without hesitation, and Ahsoka barely managed to throw herself out of the path of the rifle shot from astern.

“We’ll talk later,” Barriss decided calmly, drawing the sword she’d somehow managed to hold onto since Steela’s mutiny a thousand years ago.

Ahsoka gave a jerky nod. “Stay close.”

Barriss said something in reply, but Ahsoka didn’t hear it. Scanning the blood-slick deck, she had finally found her brother.

Except that she...hadn’t. Whatever was stalking toward her from the helm, it wasn’t Anakin anymore.

The unearthly transformation she’d gagged at, that night she’d snuck aboard _Twilight_ in a storm, seemed mild now. The shark-black eyes were still there, and the spider-crab legs extending from the stump of his arm—but they were the least of it. Raw red gashes flared at his neck—bleeding gills, flaring as he rasped and struggled to breathe. He reached for his sword, skin rough and dry like sandpaper, and Ahsoka glimpsed a line of pulsating roundels. Sucker pads like an octopus, lining his hand and the length of his flesh arm.

She tried to whisper his name and found she couldn’t.

“I told you to run,” the creature grated.

Ahsoka swallowed and gripped her axe.

“My _brother_ told me to run,” she called over the sound of fighting. She didn’t dare turn to see where Barriss had gone, but the sound of fighting just behind her suggested her ship’s cat was guarding her from vermin again. Ahsoka lifted her chin and looked what was left of Anakin in the eye. “I came here to save him, but I’ll avenge his death if you make me.”

Anakin gave a mirthless smile, baring jagged shards of shell and bone instead of teeth.

“You can try,” he said flatly, and lunged.

It was all going wrong, Ahsoka despaired as she held him off with wild swings of a boarding axe. She wasn’t supposed to fight Anakin, she wasn’t supposed to face off against the _Twilight_ …

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Anakin was a good swordsman; he’d taught Ahsoka everything she knew and there were a few tricks she’d never had a chance to learn. The Ferryman didn’t get in a lot of swordfights, though—a pirate lord did.

Anakin was more talented than she was, but Ahsoka was in practice. By now, she had a few tricks _he_ didn’t know about. Admittedly, she needed a sword for most of them. With Anakin slow and in pain, and her missing a weapon with the reach and flexibility she needed, they were evenly matched. That terrified her.

In the end it was a lucky blow that disarmed him; the edge of Ahsoka’s axe caught the blade in a way she hadn’t intended, ripping it from his hand and throwing it overboard, and she couldn’t afford to think. She plowed forward before she had time to realize what she was about to do and buried the blade in his chest.

She dropped the axe on reflex, stumbling backward into the mast. Anakin looked down, pulled the axe free, and tested the weight.

“You missed, Snips.”

“Don’t call me that,” she whispered. Everything in her screamed to find a knife, go for a fallen enemy’s pistol, anything, but...she’d just put an axe where her brother’s heart should be, and she didn’t know if she could do it again. “Anakin, _please._ Fight it. Skyguy, you can fight this…”

The blood-soaked gillslits flared in the smoke. “Not anymore.”

_“Skywalker!”_

They turned toward Barriss’ voice on instinct. She had found her way to a relative lull in the battle, bloody sword tucked in the crook of her injured arm and her good hand resting on—

She ripped the belaying pin free of its base, and the mainstay was free. It _whistled_ over their heads, writhing like a headless snake, and on any other ship it would have been disastrous.

“That was clever, hellcat,” what-had-been-Anakin acknowledged. “But the _Twilight_ only follows the rules I tell her to follow.”

“Yes,” said Barriss. “I know.”

She flipped the belaying pin in her hand and whipped it at his head like a throwing knife.

Anakin had high standards for his ship’s equipment. _Twilight_ ’s belaying pins were five-pound clubs of solid metal. It was, Ahsoka had remarked drily when he’d commissioned them, a mark of a man _very_ confident in his skills as a captain; wooden belaying pins were more common, and slightly less tempting to would-be mutineers.

Anakin ducked the pin, yelping _“Hey!”_ in a way that almost sounded like _Anakin_ again, and Barriss threw her sword to the deck at Ahsoka’s feet.

She snatched the cutlass up and ducked out of Anakin’s reach, putting a now-defenseless Barriss at her back. Anakin hefted her axe, snarled at them, and...stopped.

Thunder rolled over their heads. As Ahsoka faced off against her frozen brother, slowly, it started to rain.

Anakin looked down at the boarding axe for a long moment, then forced his fingers open. It clattered to the deck.

“Ahsoka?”

That sand-and-salt roughness in his voice wasn’t gone; but everything had changed. The tone was right, the inflection was right. He was _there._

The rain ran down his face, the awful, gaping gillslits dissolving like sugar. The crab legs crumbled to dust, the damp sucking sores on the inside of his arm fading into bruises, then healing entirely. All around them the deck of the _Twilight_ had gone quiet, sounds of fighting cutting off abruptly as the crew remembered themselves. Barnacles and mollusks melted away, the awful swelling eased.

Anakin squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them they were warm and blue again. He grinned—his teeth were crooked and a little yellow, but they were normal. He looked down at his hands in wonder as the last of the sharkskin washed away in rivulets.

Rivulets of rainwater, mixing with the blood beginning to seep from his chest.

_“Anakin!”_

Ahsoka managed to catch him before he collapsed. For a horrible moment she was certain this was, somehow, a delayed reaction to her own instinctive axe blow—but as she tore his shirt open she realized that was all wrong. The axe wound had healed, washed away like a bad dream in the rain. He was bleeding from a small, deep wound, clean and deadly. Like a knife…

Something shivered. Like the shockwave that had run just under the skin of the world when Anakin’s heart was first taken, something had shifted. The Ferryman was calling, and the _Twilight_ must respond.

“No,” Ahsoka said desperately, knowing she was being stupid but unable to accept the reality. “No, come on, Anakin—”

“Sir.” A firm hand on her shoulder, one of the crew. “Your people have to go. This isn’t for them to see.”

Her first wild thought was that the ship was sinking. Dark water rushed across the deck, and waves lapped around Anakin’s still body. She could feel the deck beneath her but couldn’t see it, everything was grey water and foam...it was _Twilight_ herself that was changing, becoming one again with the sea that had borne her.

For a moment Ahsoka clung to her brother—but the crew of the _Twilight_ knew how to separate the dead from the living, and she found herself pushed by firm, kind hands back to the rail. She jolted, tried instinctively to turn back until Barriss gripped her arm. Ahsoka hadn’t even realized she was there.

 _“No,”_ she said, eyes hard as steel. “Ahsoka, come with me.”

Ahsoka pulled against her without knowing why. “I can’t—I _can’t_ leave him, not—”

“He’s gone.” The words weren’t...harsh. But there was no mercy in them either. “Ahsoka, if the Navy claims the _Twilight_ and you’re onboard, _you are part of her crew._ Come. Now. You _cannot_ save him, Ahsoka, so honor his legacy and do what must be done.”

There was no argument to be made. Ahsoka wasn’t certain how she got off the dissolving _Twilight;_ all she knew was that the harsh solidity of _Fulcrum_ ’s deck made her stumble when she stepped aboard. She landed hard on her knees, and within moments there was a soft touch between her shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry,” Barriss said quietly beside her. “I’m sorry, Ahsoka, I couldn’t…”

“Sir?”

Ahsoka forced herself to take a deep, trembling breath.

“He’s gone, Rex,” she croaked.

There was no answer; Rex just put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her as close as he could.

Ahsoka wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that, clinging to her friend; but she was a captain still, and the battle wouldn’t end just because her world had.

Rex helped her to her feet. Ahsoka took a moment to breathe; she centered herself, finding the rhythm of _Fulcrum_ ’s heartbeat again, feeling the way her ship rolled beneath her feet. She nodded sharply, and turned to Barriss.

“...Thanks, kitten.”

Barriss inclined her head, and Ahsoka took another deep breath. The fight against _Twilight_ had given them space; the fleets were well and truly entangled in one another now, and could spare time to take stock of the battle.

It wasn’t going well; but it wasn’t going as badly as she’d feared.

The Navy, for all its discipline, was not immune to grudges. She recognized the brig _Ravenous,_ dogging Luminara’s _Sunderheart._ The Navy vessel was aptly named, one of the most determined pirate hunters in the world; _Ravenous_ ’ captain had always depended on his vessel’s superior firepower, and seemed to resent the idea that pirates might invest in capital ships. _Mistborne_ and _Consort_ had burned at _Vigilance_ ’s hand, and _Witch_ had taken enough damage that she’d fled to shelter in _Nightsister_ ’s wake.

 _Sunderheart_ would survive; an Unduli sloop Ahsoka didn’t know had already come running to back her up. And the Navy weren’t the only ones taking the opportunity to settle old grudges. There had been a lot of uncontained bloodlust around the table as positions were assigned and kills were claimed.

 _Liberty,_ Aayla’s flagship, was in a vicious duel against _Ultimatum_ , the Navy brig that had once driven her off a target. _Venator_ had won her previous fight with a lucky shot that ignited the gunpowder reserves but was caught up against a pair of sloops, and _Scimitar_ was trying and failing to keep the Navy ship _Finalizer_ in one place long enough to kill her. The _Invisible Hand_ was coolly blasting her way through her opponent—but she’d been separated from _Tyrant_ by the battle.

Ahsoka allowed herself a smile as the Navy sloop _Absolution_ pulled off a razor-sharp jibe, skidding close enough to throw torches and kerosene lanterns onto _Tyrant_ ’s deck before running out of range. If _Fulcrum_ were still in fighting shape, she’d chase them down personally just to ensure the crew were spared and put ashore free.

To leeward, for once, there was nothing cheerful about Shaak Ti’s candy-striped brigs. _Domino_ and _Castoff_ were scarred by the battle but flying nearly reckless amounts of canvas for this weather as they coldly maneuvered to overbear the Navy ship fleeing before them.

Ahsoka knew that one, too. _Interdictor_ must have been called into service specifically for this attack. Normally, it guarded slave caravans.

 _Castoff_ opened fire on her starboard side; _Domino_ went racing ahead to port. Trapped between them, _Interdictor_ had nowhere to flee and no one inclined to offer a sporting chance. Their efficiency and coordination were almost cruel, in the same way Barriss’ eyes had been colder than the depths of the ocean as she cut Dogma down. Some things were more important than mercy.

But with the death of the _Twilight,_ everything was starting to change.

Shaak Ti’s conditions had been clear. _Executor_ was Ahsoka’s charge—until she failed. And whoever had just killed Anakin, the Navy had just taken possession of the heart. There was no other explanation—and no more time to be clever.

 _Bravo_ broke off her battering of the Navy brig _Vigilance,_ turning on a dime to charge the flagship. _Nightsister_ too unfolded her wings, leaving _Witch_ behind as she charged into battle, _Tranquility_ only moments behind her.

 _Executor_...exploded.

There were exclamations of shock, echoing not just from her crew but over the water as well. No one had seen where the shot had come from, there was a vague shape of a few small ships nearby hidden in the smoke but nothing with the power to cause such damage; they could just as easily be Navy vessels as anything else—

There was no time to find out before the second man-o’-war, the quiet one Ahsoka hadn’t paid much mind to, opened fire.

“What’s she shooting at?” Rex wondered aloud. The warship— _Chimera_ , Ahsoka remembered from Han’s briefing—was still well behind the battle, out of range of anything but the noncombatant resupply boats. She couldn’t possibly hope to hit either of the capital ships charging her at that distance…

“Maybe the captain panicked, sir?” Fives suggested.

“Is she firing on her _own ship?”_ demanded Barriss, whose eyes were better.

She was right. _Chimera_ wasn’t shooting at random; she was turning, slowly but surely, to bring her awe-inspiring broadside to bear on a single corvette to her stern. Ahsoka squinted, blinked, and pulled out a spyglass.

“What the _hell,”_ she said incredulously, “is Hera Syndulla doing in the middle of a Naval fleet?”

“That’s the _Ghost?”_

“Apparently, Rex.” Ahsoka watched as the _Ghost,_ caught off-guard at first but adjusting quickly, flared her sails and dodged astern of the capital ship. “And she’d better get out of there fast if she wants—yep, there she goes.”

The _Ghost_ was agonizingly slow at first; _Chimera_ was attempting to maneuver her bulk and catch the little smuggler in a broadside, and the ship was big enough that her mere presence blocked enough of the wind to keep Hera from being able to run effectively. But she was smart; rather than tack to the rear and try to run with fifty-seven guns raking her stern every few seconds she’d lunged _closer,_ almost bumping _Chimera_ ’s stern as she stuck to the boards and denied them any opportunity to shoot her.

Rex and a few of the boys with their own spyglasses laughed.

“All that firepower and she can’t scratch her own ass!” Hardcase yelled, delighted. He added a hasty, “Uh, sorry ma’am” in Barriss’ direction.

“I lived with Hondo Ohnaka’s crew for several weeks,” Barriss reminded him. “I assure you I have heard worse.”

“Get outta there, Hera,” Ahsoka murmured. _Chimera_ was continuing her lumbering turn and would never be able to catch them, but whoever was in command over there wasn’t stupid. While all the sailors focused on turning the man’o’war, there were already a handful of low-ranking officers appearing at the aft galleries with torches and kerosene lamps, trying to throw them into the Ghost’s sheets while Zeb and Sabine frantically shot at them from the rigging.

But the maneuver had served its purpose. The _Ghost_ was clear, and she leapt forward while _Chimera_ was still trying to come back to its original position.

Whooping and cheers broke out from _Fulcrum_ ’s crew at the sheer cheek of the trick. She wouldn’t be out of range or even close to it by the time that broadside came to bear; but she had the wind now, and while _Chimera_ had to maneuver to fire, all she had to do was run. And no first-rate gunship could chase down a fleeing smuggler in its wildest dreams.

Unfortunately, a patrol sloop could.

Ahsoka didn’t know what Hera’d done to piss _Expedient_ off, but the speed with which she dropped her gun duel with _Azure Angel_ to peel off and go racing after the _Ghost_ could only be personal. The _Ghost_ was probably faster, all else being equal; but _Expedient_ had a better angle on the wind, and she was catching them.

Ahsoka glanced up at her mainmast. They couldn’t make it to Hera before that sloop did, and she still wanted an explanation for why the woman she’d brought into the confidence of the Court had ended up among the ships that betrayed them; but they were clearly not friends of the Navy, and she certainly wanted Hera’s people alive to _give_ her that explanation. She owed them much more than that.

“Rex?”

Rex made a face. “I don’t know if we can do it with this kind of damage, but we can certainly try.”

While _Fulcrum_ ’s crew tried to get their foundering ship to limp forward one last time, Ahsoka’s fingers clenched on the wheel. She was waiting, for...for something. She didn’t know what. All she knew was that something had changed, the sea in her blood was shivering, there was _something_ ...something… _Expedient_ was almost in firing range, just starting to inch her bow up on the _Ghost_ , and Ahsoka’s heart nearly stopped as she felt what was about to happen.

The rushing black shape of the _Twilight_ broke the waves with all the joy and defiance of a breaching orca.

There was shouting and a few choice curses from the _Ghost_ , loud enough that Ahsoka could hear them even from this distance; _Twilight_ had surfaced directly to her stern, and the _Ghost_ was no more able to fire at her there than _Chimera_ had been. Even _Expedient_ reacted, jumping off her course; but the Navy ship steadied quickly and made room, peeling off at a polite angle that would give the other sloop first blood.

The _Ghost_ wheeled frantically, trying to get her port guns to bear, but there was no way she could fight back in time.

 _Twilight_ opened fire—on _Expedient._

* * *

“I’m gonna kill him,” said Sabine.

“You may not have to.” Kanan, leaning against the rail to Ahsoka’s left, gave the hint of a smile. “I think Hera’s debating stringing him up from the yardarm.”

There wasn’t a lot of heart behind either sentiment, and nobody laughed; but the smiles, at least, were genuine.

It wouldn’t quite be accurate to say that the arrival of a new Ferryman had turned the tide. In a battle this size a single sloop, even the immortal ship of the dead, simply couldn’t affect the outcome that dramatically. In the end it had been _Nightsister,_ blazing with all of _Tranquility_ ’s broadside power but with the addition of war rockets and better maneuverability, that had forced _Chimera_ to retreat.

The man’o’war—the true flagship, as Ahsoka now realized—had put up a respectable fight. She’d eventually managed to flee into the wind, forcing _Nightsister_ to leave her behind. _Tranquility_ , perhaps, could have matched her; but Luminara had no interest in destroying her flagship to chase down an enemy that was already defeated.

The air was still thick with smoke; there were too many dead and too many who would inevitably follow them. But the guns were quiet now, and the rain was beginning to wash the decks clear of blood. _Fulcrum_ was beyond saving; Hera had brought her people onboard, so they had time to rest. Barriss, broken wrist bound tightly until they could find a real medic and a length of white rope resting in her lap, had fallen asleep on Ahsoka’s shoulder an hour ago.

And Ezra Bridger had killed her brother.

It was...hard, to accept that. Ahsoka knew better than to blame him; in time, she would be thanking the kid on bended knee. She knew better than anyone what he’d willingly sacrificed. That he was so young only made her debt steeper. But...Anakin was dead, and Ezra had killed him. She wasn’t angry. She just...needed time to mourn.

The Court was beginning to straggle back into something resembling formation, anchored off Takodana. There were gaps in the line, but not as many as there might have been. Hondo had apparently lost _Pirate_ at some point, and _Cadet_ was badly charred…

Which reminded her. “We ever hear who took _Executor_ out?”

Sabine coughed.

“Look,” she said. “If they didn’t want to explode, they shouldn’t have let a stranger into their powder magazine. I _might_ have left a lot of stray gunpowder scattered...everywhere? Any shot would’ve set that off.”

Rex chuckled appreciatively. “Must’ve been a shock for the _Womp Rat,_ then. I gather the young Skywalkers didn’t react well to seeing their father used like that, sir,” he added to Ahsoka. _“Darklighter_ signalled us while you were moving the wounded, it was definitely the _Rat_ with the _Falcon_ covering her that doubled back on the flagship. Sorry, sir. Thought you know.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Ahsoka muttered, leaning back against the bulwark and closing her eyes. Barriss stirred slightly and hummed in protest.

There was a shrill whistle off the _Ghost_ ’s bow. Everyone on board jumped badly; Barriss jolted upright, smacked her head off the bulwark, and had half-drawn her sword before she remembered where she was.

Ahsoka sighed and pulled herself to her feet, reaching down to help Barriss up. She sighed for entirely different reasons when she saw the jagged red sails of Ventress’ _Assassin_ pulling up alongside the _Ghost_ , its captain hanging from a ratline off the side and grinning.

“Well now,” she greeted them, entirely too satisfied. “The great Captain Tano. Misplace your ship?”

Ahsoka closed her eyes and mentally recited the part of the Code that forbid attacking other Brethren. “What do you want.”

Ventress gave a careless shrug. “Here I was being friendly and offering you a ride. Kanata wants to see you. She’s got an _offer_ for your little girlfriend, apparently.”

“What,” said Ahsoka. “You work for Maz now?”

Another shrug, this time accompanied by a sharp smile. “Apparently. My old captain seems to have given his permission to seek alternate employment, judging by the fact that he fired on me a few hours ago.” Ahsoka didn’t bother to hide her wince, and Ventress shot her a nasty look. “Save your pity, I have a ship and a crew. You coming?”

Movement in the corner of her eye distracted Ahsoka. _Assassin_ wasn’t the only ship coming to meet the _Ghost;_ _Twilight_ was making her way up to them, black against the rainclouds as night began to fall, and Ahsoka knew why she was here.

“In...in a minute, Ventress.”

Ventress huffed and swung back onto her own boat. “No, take your time,” she griped. “I don’t have anything better to do...”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes.

* * *

Ezra was wrapped in several bear hugs at once when Barriss climbed over onto the _Twilight._

The difference in the ship was night and day. She was still charred black, the sails burnt rags; but her deck was smooth and clean now. No more coral, no rot and filth, no seaweed or barnacles pulsing in the shadows. Her lanterns glittered in a warm, comfortable way. Barriss could, for the first time, almost imagine what this little sloop was like in life. She could almost hear the laughter and music Ahsoka so clearly had in her memory.

The _Twilight_ had been reborn.

“I know you can’t stay.” Kanan gripped Ezra’s shoulder. “But if you want to come onboard, have one last meal…”

Everything on Ezra’s face said he wanted that more than anything, but he shook his head. Barriss suspected she knew why. The sun was setting, and the Ferryman had a duty.

Ezra gestured around them. “A lot of people died at sea today, Kanan.” His voice was too solemn. “I can...sense them. They _need_ me.”

“You’ll have a lot of catching up to do,” Ahsoka said quietly. “And you need to choose a Speaker by sunset. Anakin did what he could over the past year, but…”

“Yeah.” Ezra looked out over the water. “Yeah. It’s gonna take a lot of work.” He set his shoulders. “But that’s all right. I’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Do you know the way?”

Ezra was silent for a long time, thinking; he reached out, and rested a hand on the _Twilight_ ’s helm.

“I...yeah. Yeah, I think I do.”

Rex cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Well, kid,” he said simply. “If there’s that much work to be done, you’ll need all hands on deck to get to it.”

Barriss glanced over at Ahsoka, and the obvious pain in her face made Barriss’ stomach clench. But...Maz had mentioned that Barriss would make a good apprentice Keeper, and her mother was out there as well. She wouldn’t be _abandoned_. It didn’t make the inevitable hurt any less. Ahsoka’s furlough was bound to her role as the Speaker. They’d promised each other the time they had left...and Ahsoka, it seemed, was out of time.

Ezra took a deep breath and nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “First things first...you all made your oath to Anakin. You’ve all done the job. This is part of the process, I don’t...I don’t know how I _know._ But you’ve done your duty to the Ferryman. It’s okay. You all have a _choice_ now. You’ll lose the immortality, but...or you can take the one last trip. If you want to just...move on. A few of the men have already taken me up on that.”

Rex nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a fine offer, sir,” he said. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’ve still got a debt to repay. I’m with you.”

Ezra relaxed a bit. “Thanks, Rex. Um...Ahsoka?”

She swallowed audibly. Barriss couldn’t stop herself from tightening her grip on her arm. “Yeah, kid?”

He looked so hopeful. “You can still be Speaker, if you want. I trust you to do the right thing.”

It was such a sweet, innocent offer that Ahsoka had to laugh.

“No, Ezra.” Her smile seemed genuine, but Barriss could see the sadness behind it. “It doesn’t work like that. The Speaker has to be someone you trust to know what _you_ would want, even if they disagree. _And_ who’ll smack you if you try to make them do something stupid, but do it anyway if you don’t change your mind, because they trust you.”

“Sabine,” said Hera, Kanan, and Zeb in unison.

“Wait,” said Sabine. “What?”

“Okay, fine,” said Ezra. “I guess...Oh! Okay, then.” He gave and awkward laugh. “I was going to ask if you wanted me to release you from your oath, but, I guess that answers _that_ question.”

Ahsoka blinked. “What do you mean? I was going to come with you.”

Rex smiled gently. “Your eyes, sir.”

“My—”

Barriss gripped her shoulder, turning her around. After a moment, she glanced over the side of the ship, then peered closely into Ahsoka’s eyes.

Relief and love washed over her so intensely she thought for a moment _she_ might be dissolving into seawater the way the _Twilight_ had that morning.

“Kitten?” Ahsoka asked nervously. “Is there, uh...something wrong with my eyes?”

In the fading light, the sea was liquid metal, steel-grey. Ahsoka’s eyes no longer flashed with that hypnotic too-deep color, the faint motion of waves or the eerie hint of distorted light. They were beautiful, still, but they were…

“Blue,” Barriss choked. “They’re blue.”

“Yeah, um.” Ezra grinned. “I don’t think you really _want_ to come with the _Twilight._ So...I’m not letting you! So there. I reject your offer and...I don’t know, curse you to walk the world of the living for the rest of your natural life? Can I do that?”

“Eh.” Rex shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

Ahsoka was stiff with shock; then, with a breathless laugh, every muscle in her body visibly relaxed.

“Okay.” Barriss was...comforted, somewhat, by the fact that Ahsoka sounded choked up as well. “Okay. I accept the Ferryman’s judgement. I’ll see you around, Ezra.”

Ezra looked concerned. “You’d better not! Uh, not for a while, at least.”

“Yeah,” said Rex. “This is gonna be enough work already without you making it harder.” Ahsoka punched him in the arm, and he laughed.

Barriss cleared her throat. It was difficult to tell how close it was to sunset, but the sky was getting worryingly dark. “Sabine?” she said. “You don’t _have_ to accept the role of Speaker.”

“No,” Sabine said quickly. “No, I’ll do it. I...thanks, Ezra. I mean, if Hera…?”

Hera sighed. “Well,” she acknowledged. “I think our cover as legitimate merchants is pretty much shot. Speaking of which.” She turned to Ahsoka. “Where are _you_ two going? I’ll put your crew ashore wherever we end up, but something tells me you’re not planning to sign up to crew some schooner on Tortuga.”

“I’m...not sure,” Ahsoka admitted. Unexpectedly, she put an arm around Barriss’ waist; Barriss blinked, but leaned into her. It was..nice. Natural. No weight of eternity to the gesture. “I’ve never really had the luxury of thinking about it.”

Barriss thought about it. Ahsoka and her brother had started out legitimate, after all. It was almost impossible to go back to that once you’d been branded, but…

Apparently, Ahsoka was thinking along the same lines.

“Think Sabine could forge letters of marque?” she asked casually.

Barriss pinched the bridge of her nose. “My mother is still ostensibly a respected member of the community, and you saved her daughter’s life,” she pointed out. “I sincerely doubt forgery will be required. And privateering? You would turn on the Court?”

“No, I want to hunt Dooku,” Ahsoka said blandly. “But you’re right. Maybe pardon papers? Set up as very dangerous merchants? I know, um.” Unaccountably, she suddenly looked apologetic. “Maz mentioned something to me about you making a good apprentice Keeper. I think she’s right. If you wanted to...stay, learn the lore, you’ve followed me this far…”

Barriss decided to cut that line of thinking off before it could grow. She’d spent her entire life buried in books and silently yearning for the sea. “And I intend to stop following you and be an equal partner going forward,” she said firmly. “I would suggest that begins with consulting my mother to create an airtight alibi for your pardon, and deciding where and how we intend to acquire a decent ship.”

Ahsoka grinned.

 


End file.
